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minileena-sfw · 10 months

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Zookeeper - part 14

CW: Manipulation, suicide attempt, political discussion, brief mention of sexual assault

So… CW list a mile long. BUT! This is still one of my favourite chapters I’ve written of this story. I really hope y’all like it 🥰

If you maybe aren’t comfy with reading it, a summary can be found here. Enjoy!

I was rudely awakened to the sound of a phone ringing.

I supposed that one of the few good things about living in a zoo is that you get to choose your own sleep schedule. Sure, you’d get the occasional person flicking the glass early in the morning, but the ringtone of the phone was, honestly, considerably worse.

With a huff, I sat up on my pillow and watched as Evelyn reached forwards to answer the call.

The human had set me up on the floor, in front of her nightstand. She let me sleep on a spare pillow.

I… had conflicted feelings about her.

She was my tool for escaping. She was my friend. These two facts could and did remain true at the same time. I was slowly working on letting my guard down, relaxing myself into conversation and trying hard not to intentionally choose the responses that would benefit me the most.

I hated that I was still aware of them, though. Because yes, with every single sentence I spoke, I knew what the correct thing to say would be. I knew precisely what vocabulary to use to elicit the responses I wanted. I didn’t think I would ever stop being aware of that. The best I could do was to choose the responses I wanted to choose, regardless of whether or not they’d be the most beneficial.

I think I’m slowly getting better at it.

Evelyn answered the call with furrowed brows. “Jasper?” She put the call on speakerphone for me.

“Evelyn, what the hell were you thinking?”

Fuck.

“I… what? What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, with a painfully obvious hint of concern in her voice.

“I got called in early to deal with the mess you and your parvinnet left here. I’m betting you’ll get a call from Bonnie pretty soon, too.”

I had just started working on treating Evelyn like a friend, too. Now she had to become a tool again. Fucking Jasper.

Okay, so… loyalties. Evelyn tried to cover for me on instinct. That was a good sign. If her feelings towards me and her employers hadn’t changed throughout the last three weeks, then I was pretty safe. I didn’t have any guarantee of that, though, since throughout the past three weeks, I haven’t been able to work on strengthening her resolve to free me due to being constantly surveilled. If those feelings hadn’t degraded, though, she’d value me and my freedom over her job. Would she deal with being arrested for me, though? Legally, I am the property of the zoo, and I’m valuable at that. She committed a theft for my sake. Would she give me back just to get out of being charged?

“I… J-Jasper, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, sweet Evelyn. It’s time to give up now. We can’t lie our way out of this one anymore.

“I listened to the whole conversation you had with it,” Jasper sighed, exasperation dripping from his voice. “You helped it get out. I heard you talking about the cameras—and for the record, yes, the cameras wipe footage every twenty-one days, but they start indexing at zero, not one. You made your move a day too early.”

I supposed she was already caught red-handed. Hopefully she’d agree that there was no need to bring us both down if she had already been exposed. And she respected me enough to not hand me over for something as small as a more lenient charge, right? But what if she would, for example, be fined if she handed me over and arrested if she didn’t? How deep did the loyalty go? I supposed that this was only relevant if rational thought were a factor, and I could absolutely just manipulate the situation around that. Evelyn was in panic mode right now, and I could exploit it if necessary—tell her to let me go now, promise to meet back up with her later. If I stress urgency, she might make a decision before thinking about the ramifications of it, and I could remove myself from the situation before she could realize that she’d be fucking herself over by letting me—

“Don’t worry, the footage is gone and I’m not reporting it,” Jasper sighed.

I…

Huh.

…What??

“Don’t know what the fuck was going through your head there, but I’m not super inclined to let you get arrested,” he continued. “Obviously if someone questions me about it I’ll throw you under the bus, which you deserve for being a fucking idiot. Oh, and by the way, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Prick,” I muttered to myself.

“Is that the fucking parvinnet on the line!?” Jasper hissed.

Evelyn gave me a look.

“I didn’t think the mic would pick that up!” I protested. “Besides, it’s not like it matters. He already knows pretty much everything, the only thing that changed is that he knows where I am now. I guess the worst he could do is come over and kidnap me and then bring me back to the zoo, but that would barely even benefit him, so I think we’re fine.”

“I can’t believe you let a goddamn rodent talk you into committing a felony,” Jasper groaned.

“I’m not a fucking rodent,” I spat. “And now that I can finally talk back to you without consequences, fuck you. You are the biggest piece of shit on this god forsaken planet, and I will spend the rest of my life praying to any god or deity that will listen to make your every waking moment a living hell.”

“Christ, Layna,” Evelyn breathed.

“Oh my god, you named it,” Jasper muttered.

“My mother named me,” I spat back. “The last time I got to hear my own fucking name was as she and my sister screamed it at me when I was ripped away from them and sent to spend the rest of my life in a cage with the world’s worst company.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jasper huffed. “I’ll cover for you, Evelyn, but I’m coming over later so that we can have a talk about this. You’re my friend, and I’m genuinely worried about you. I would say that we’ll talk at work, but Bonnie’s pretty pissed and she’s definitely gonna fire you, so I guess I’ll come by this evening. And then we’re gonna talk about… god, we’re gonna talk about how you made friends with a wild animal and then let it talk you into breaking it out of a zoo.”

“I’m assuming this is non-negotiable,” Evelyn sighed. “Fine. See you in a bit.”

“One last ‘fuck you’ for the road?” I offered before the line went dead.

“Oh my god I hate him so much,” I sighed. “That felt so good…” One more deep breath. “Anyways, wanna prepare what you’re gonna say for when he comes?”

Evelyn held her forehead in her palms, elbows propped up on her knees as she hunched over. “Why would I need to prepare? I don’t need a script, I just need to be honest with him. Make him see who you really are.”

Hoo boy.

My poor, naïve Evelyn…

“Alright, how do I put this,” I muttered to myself, eliciting a cocked eyebrow from Evelyn. “Have you ever tried to talk someone out of bigotry on Twitter?”

Evelyn’s brows furrowed, her expression ripe with confusion. “I… what? What does this have to do with anything?”

“I mean, I thought it was a pretty clear comparison, but I guess I’ll go a little slower,” I huffed. “When you spend three and a half years with literally nothing to do with your time aside from watching people, you get pretty good at figuring out what makes said people tick. And, y’know, I’ve spent more time with Jasper than I have literally any other human, so I know what pushes his buttons pretty well. I used to just use it to piss him off because it was funny and I didn’t exactly have an iPhone in my cage, but apparently the knowledge is gonna be useful today.

“Jasper does not respond to sympathy. You heard him shrug off that little comment I made about my sister like it meant nothing to him, didn’t you? I tried that angle with him for months after I was first caught. It got me nowhere. Then I tried the logic angle. It also didn’t get me anywhere. I tried to open up discussions with him, try to really, genuinely get him to ponder the definition of personhood and sapience like you did after, like, three days of knowing me. It didn’t work.

“Jasper doesn’t define personhood in those terms. He doesn’t think of what defines a sapient being worthy of rights and respect by things like logic, reason or emotion. He defines ‘a person’ as ‘a member of the human race.’ There is zero wiggle room, no matter how many sob stories I feed him, no matter how much I point out how illogical it is for him to completely disregard my speech capabilities and obvious level of emotional and personal nuance. You can’t talk him into it. His beliefs are set in hard-cast stone. Hence the comparison to a MAGA nutjob on Twitter—you can tell them that Trump has a sexual allegations list a hundred miles long and has literally been held liable for it, but they’ll just spit in your face and say that it doesn’t count because it was a civil trial and not a criminal one. You can continue on that thread, pointing out other horrible things he’s done, his racist practices, his political blunders, etcetera, but they don’t listen to facts and reason. They are pro-Trump and no amount of yelling and screaming and showing facts and articles and lawsuits is going to change that.

“So the approach we’re gonna have to take to get him to back the fuck off is more than likely not gonna involve any of those things in your impending conversation with him. I think it’s really sweet that you wanna just speak from the heart and hope that your friendship with him is strong enough to ‘show him the light’ or whatever, but the world doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t work that way. We’re gonna have to come up with something else, and it’s a very good idea for us to talk about it beforehand.”

Evelyn was quiet for a bit.

God, she’s so cute and naïve. The thought nearly made me visibly smile. I suppressed the urge, though.

“You’re really good at that,” Evelyn finally decided.

“I spent three and a half years without the opportunity to hone many other skills, so yeah, I suppose I am pretty damn good at analyzing people and figuring out their ticks,” I agreed.

“How did you know about that stuff?” Evelyn asked. “The… the twitter stuff, and the Trump stuff?”

I grimaced. “I, uh… stole an iPhone after someone dropped it on their walk home,” I admitted. “Obviously I didn’t know the passcode, but punching in the wrong one a couple dozen times till it offered to erase everything worked well enough to get me a blank slate and a safari page. It was 2016 by the time I got a handle on the whole ‘literacy’ thing, so… yeah. A very interesting time to get into your species’ politics. And kinda funny to keep up to date with from in the zoo—I guess there was a pandemic that somehow got politicized? You people are weird. But anyways, you’re latching onto the wrong details of what I said. So…” I prompted. “Thoughts? Ideas? I had three years to work on him and got nowhere, but maybe with the presence of someone he actually considers a person, things will go better. As long as we make the correct approaches.”

As Evelyn thought of ways to make Jasper fuck off, I considered my own moves from here. Technically, it wasn’t the end of the world if this conversation didn’t go well. The whole reason it’s happening in the first place is because Jasper cares enough about Evelyn to cover her ass, and since she’s covering my ass, the ass-covering carries over. The only nightmare outcome would be this conversation going so bad that Jasper suddenly decides to turn us both into the authorities, but… I literally can’t think of anything Evelyn could say to fuck things up that horribly. We should be largely fine, at least in the short term.

“I… I can’t think of anything,” Evelyn admitted, breaking me out of my train of thought. “It’s… how am I supposed to get him to care about you if there’s nothing I can do to get him to care about you? It’s a paradox!”

“It is,” I agreed. “That’s why getting him to care about me isn’t the goal.”

Evelyn’s brows furrowed. “It isn’t?”

“I never said that it was,” I confirmed. “Frankly, I don’t like him enough to wanna put in the effort of bashing my head against that particular brick wall. The goal is to make him fuck off and leave me alone. He’s incapable of giving a shit about me, but I don’t need him to. The ideal situation is one where he just washes his hands of any involvement in this. Forgets you and I exist and moves on with his life. Unfortunately, he cares too much about you to ever leave me the fuck alone, since I’m kinda bound to you for now. Obviously, the clearest path forwards from there would be to unbound myself from you, but unfortunately I like you, so the efficient method of just severing all ties and leaving you is… not desirable.”

Actually, no. It’s not just ‘not desirable.’ It’s unacceptable. It would be losing. I refuse to lose to Jasper. I’m not giving up an inch of this hard-fought slice of peace I have spent three years clawing for. Evelyn is mine.

…Oh. Uh. Shit. Very problematic thought process there, brain. I would be thinking hard about that later.

“I, uh,” Evelyn said with a cocked eyebrow. “I don’t know if I should be offended that you just insinuated that the fact that you care about me is a logistical issue, but… I… guess it proves you care about me in the first place..?”

Oh, fuckin whoops. There’s a reason I usually keep this monologue internal. Lemme just do some damage control here.

“E-Evelyn, I… I’m in analysis mode here,” I reassured. “My affection towards you obviously isn’t as surface level as just… a thing that I have. That’s not what my emotions are to me. That’s not what you are to me. You’re… more important than that,” I said with a smile. “I’m just thinking in a logical context right now, I promise.”

“I-it was just a little joke, don’t worry,” Evelyn reassured me, though I knew she felt relieved. “I don’t actually think you treat your emotions as assets to be used in some kind of game.”

Ha. If only she knew. I’ve been working hard to stop treating everything I see as an asset, and I could almost have believed it was going well before Jasper called.

“You, uh… you don’t, right?”

I realized just a little too late that I never responded to that. “Oh, no, of course I don’t,” I lied. “Sorry, just… got lost in thought again.”

Evelyn just nodded. Then, after another quick pause; “And, you… you don’t treat anyone else’s emotions like assets, too, right? Like… how often is this kind of stuff going through your head? Do… do you ever get into ‘analysis mode’ with me..?”

Oh, god. I really don’t want to lie to Evelyn, and if I’m being honest, I had been thinking for a while about telling her that I intentionally manipulated her, but I wanted to wait a little bit for the right time. No, not now, it’s not time for that yet. For now, though… I could answer her question without lying, right?

“Evelyn,” I said, taking a step closer to the giant. “How I feel—”

Evelyn’s phone rang again. With one last concerned look in my direction—shit, that’s a bad sign, isn’t it?—she checked the caller ID.

“Bonnie,” she said. “Uh… okay, lemme just get fired real quick before we keep going here.”

As Evelyn listened to her manager chew her out for being the only zookeeper in years to be so incompetent as to let out an exhibit, I considered whether or not it was worth it to just… run.

She was onto me, after all. I could see it in her eyes, in her posture. I spoke my train of thought aloud, and she saw me for what I really am—a sociopath who plans every interaction and manipulates them into favourable situations. She listened to me thinking about how best to do it to Jasper, and realized that it was very likely that I had employed a similar method in my conversations with her. I had no control over how she would react to this. I was planning on talking her down and convincing her that I’m not a sociopath, but if it didn’t go well… I wouldn’t surrender my hard-fought freedom. I would bolt.

I planned out an escape route. The curtain to the open window was floor-length, and therefore in reach. I could climb up and run out, then… shit. I’m pretty sure I could survive if I just jumped straight down to the ground, even though I’m on the second floor. I don’t have enough mass to work up the momentum it would take to cause any appreciable damage by falling. But… I had never exactly had a strong desire to test that at any point throughout my life, and I wasn’t ecstatic at the prospect of trying it without knowing for certain.

This was all just a backup plan, though. It’s okay if it’s kind of terrible—hopefully, it won’t come to that. And god, I really hoped it didn’t. I really, really like Evelyn. I don’t want her to hate me. I just want a normal friendship with her.

And… friends talk to each other.

The instincts that had spent three years embedding themselves in the fibers of my being screamed at me for entertaining this line of thought. This is a delicate situation. Now is not the time to be honest with her. I’m a helpless animal, and I didn’t have the luxury of treating this situation like a human would. My life is at stake.

And yet…

Friends talk to each other.

“In any other situation, I’d probably be crying after a call like that,” Evelyn muttered as she hung up. “Strange how saving a life negates the anxiety of frivolous things like summer income. Anyways…” The human set her phone back down on her nightstand. “Layna. I… I didn’t mean to insinuate—“

“For all intents and purposes, I intentionally emotionally manipulated you into feeling guilty for my captivity and coerced you into helping me escape by spending time with you for the purpose of fostering affection so that I could abuse it—and you—to break free,” I blurted, tears welling in my eyes.

I took note of how Evelyn’s shock softened just the smallest amount as she saw my lip quiver. In response, I waited an extra few seconds before biting down on it, giving her more time to see it and foster feelings of pity for me.

…I’m a monster.

I’m a fucking monster.

My legs were tense, ready to sprint to the window the moment her rage overtook her, preparing for the fallout of losing my most valuable asset.

I hate this.

I don’t want to think of Evelyn that way.

I want to be friends with her.

I want to sob into her chest while she holds me in cupped hands, a reassuring finger running down my back as she calms me down and tells me that it’s all okay now, that I’m safe now, that I never need to think about these kinds of things again.

I wish I was a person.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered pathetically.

I stifled my sobbing. My instincts told me to use them, to cry loudly so she’d pity me more. I refused those instincts. I clamped down on my desire to wail. I wouldn’t entertain my manipulative tendencies right now—Evelyn deserved that much from me.

“Was any of it real?” Evelyn asked, and for once, I couldn’t parse her tone. I couldn’t find any anger, nor could I find forgiveness.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I… I want it to have been. But I don’t know anymore. I…” I considered what I wanted to say next. My heart wanted to speak those words, but… my instincts told me they’d foster more pity. That when I spoke them, my chances of keeping this asset would increase. I didn’t want to listen to those instincts.

I had promised myself I would listen to my heart for Evelyn, though. It didn’t matter that my manipulative instincts agreed with it, right? It didn’t matter that I was aware of the positive effects it would have. My heart told me to say it, and so I said it.

“I don’t remember how to see people as people anymore,” I whispered, voice quivering. “I don’t remember how to have a conversation with someone without subconsciously steering things in a favourable direction for me. How to talk to someone without ulterior motives. It’s… it’s been too long since I’ve just talked, and those skills have atrophied.”

“Layna…” Evelyn breathed.

“I don’t want to know these things anymore,” I choked out. “I don’t want to be constantly aware that every little quiver of my voice makes you pity me. I want that little voice in my head telling me to abuse it and sob for you so you’ll feel more responsible for my wellbeing to go away. But it won’t, because I’ve listened to it for three years and I don’t know how to turn it off anymore.”

My knees quivered and threatened to buckle, but I kept them locked. I still might need to run.

“I just want to be your friend,” I whispered pathetically. “But I can’t stop thinking of you as a tool.”

Evelyn sat up in her bed. Her face grew far enough away from me that it was a blur to my nearsightedness. I couldn’t read her intentions.

And so when the giant’s hand descended down, I assumed the worst and ran for the window.

“Wh— Layna!” Evelyn called after me, but my legs pumped without any intention of slowing down. I reached the curtain in an instant, immediately jumping to start climbing. The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, and I missed a handhold in the fabric, slipping for just a moment before regaining my grip.

That moment was enough for Evelyn to react. She shot towards the window, scrambling to close it before I could throw myself out. I immediately doubled back and ran for the door to her bedroom, hoping to escape that way.

The door was only open a crack, and so all Evelyn had to do to block off my way out was slam it an inch, blocking off my last chance of never having to see the inside of that cage again.

My breaths grew more shallow, my movements more erratic. I didn’t have an out in this situation. I was so fucking close to finally being free, and I messed it up at the last goddamn second. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? Now I had zero control over the situation. I couldn’t say anything to convince her to stop—she already knew all my tactics, because I told her all of them.

I can’t go back there.

I can’t go back to that cage!!!

I started searching wildly for another way out. A hole in the wall, a secret door, a fucking portal to another dimension, anything to gain a foothold, to control something about this situation. I came up with nothing.

My legs fell out from under me. I shot back up, but my knees still quivered with terror, threatening to buckle again. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded through my chest, and I was certain it had somehow broken my ribs, because nothing else could possibly have caused that pain. I fell again, my limbs betraying me as I looked up at Evelyn, shaky arms keeping me propped up as I tried to crawl backwards away from her.

“Please don’t hurt me!” I cried. “Please don’t take me back!!! I can’t go back!!! I won’t go back!!!”

I’d sooner die.

My wrist shot up to my mouth, and my jaws prepared to clamp down on my veins.

I won’t go back.

Giant fingers pried my limbs away, denying me of any bodily autonomy. I struggled and squirmed and cried, but those fingers kept me locked in place.

Evelyn brought me closer to her face, and even through the blurring of both my nearsightedness and the tears in my eyes, I could make out her expression.

It… it wasn’t anger.

It was grief.

I was held against her chest, fingers still keeping my limbs secure to prevent me from hurting myself. I sobbed uncontrollably into her chest.

“I can’t go back!” I wailed.

“You’re not going back,” Evelyn said softly. “You’re never going to have to see that tank again. I promise you that.”

My frail body quivered in her grip.

“Are you gonna kill me?” I sobbed.

“Oh my god,” Evelyn whispered, her voice quivering. “Layna… sweet Layna… It’s okay, honey, no one’s going to hurt you. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again as long as I live.”

She’s… not mad.

She’s crying.

For me.

“I’m a monster,” I reminded her.

“You’re a victim,” Evelyn corrected. “You’re… you’re a broken woman who has suffered too much heartache for one person to ever have to bear. It’s not your fault that your coping mechanisms are harmful to yourself. And… and to me.”

She let out a shaky sigh, trying in vain to calm her breathing. Her finger ran down my back in an attempt to soothe me.

“You were forced into a corner,” she continued, “and… and I was your way out. You were in there for so long… I’m so sorry, Layna…”

“I don’t deserve this,” I reminded her. “I spent my days thinking about ways to emotionally abuse you. Trying to get you to feel horrible and depressed so you’d save me. At every given chance, I chose the path that would make you hate yourself, and I did it on purpose.”

“I deserved to hate myself for what I was doing to you,” Evelyn replied. “I’m glad you made me feel the way I did, even if I would’ve preferred less malice and obfuscation.”

“I still don’t know how to see you as a person,” I cut in. “I still see you and your emotions as tools I can use. I… I’m a sociopath.”

“I want to help you stop,” she responded without hesitation. “I want to teach you to treat people as people. I want for you to think of me as your friend. I want to help you heal. Because you’re not a sociopath, Layna. You’re hurt.”

“I’m just going to keep using you,” I said. “I’m going to use this. I’m already thinking of ways I could take advantage of it. How I could manipulate you into thinking I’m healing to lower your guard.”

“Layna. Was it a good idea to tell me that? From the perspective of a manipulator, I mean.”

I hesitated for a moment.

“It was a horrible idea to let you know what my plans could be,” I admitted.

“So why did you tell me?”

I already knew the answer, of course.

“…Because I promised myself I would tell you what felt right, and not what benefited me the most,” I whispered. “Because I want to get better. I want to be your friend.”

“You are my friend,” Evelyn said, and I shattered.

Evelyn kept shushing and softly petting my head as I screamed into her chest. She took it in stride, continuing to reassure me and tell me everything was gonna be okay.

“Friends help each other,” Evelyn promised. “I’m gonna help you.”

Sobs wreaked through my chest hard enough to hurt, strong enough that my lungs burned from lack of air.

I shattered, and Evelyn held all the pieces together in one place as I wailed.

In the palms of her hands.

The one place that I couldn’t reconcile… for I simultaneously had no control over myself, and all the control in the world.

#size k!nk #giant/tiny #leena-stories

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electriccenturies · 2 years

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brains?

It's a couple years old now but I'm listening to an episode of vox conversations with Hannah Gadsby as the guest, and it's fucking weird to listen to as a late diagnosed autistic person who is perpetually figuring out what parts of me are Normal™. She keeps doing this half clarification / half joke thing that is so familiar to me, and the host so clearly Does Not Find It Funny (or possibly doesn’t know if it’s a joke or not and is scared to laugh?). It'll be like:

Hannah: My mum was the cleaner at the local golf course— golf club, she didn’t clean the course.

*silence*

Hannah (laughing): It’s made of dirt, that’s a silly job.

*no response*

And it suddenly occurred to me that other people maybe don’t think that way? Like, idk about Hannah, but for me I filter through all the possible interpretations of things, not just the contextually correct one, and it leads to puns and little jokes, but also leads me to get SO FUCKING STRESSED about being misinterpreted and wanting to be very, very precise. So I have to make jokes like that — compulsively, at a frequency that annoys people — both to point out the humour of how it could be interpreted, and so that people wont think I’m a total fool.

But now I feel like a lot of NT people might not see those funny literal mental pictures in that way? With the example above, I understood what she meant but I also pictured her mother cleaning the actual golf course and found it funny. Meanwhile, Ezra seemed to either not understand that it was a joke, or not think it warranted even a polite laugh.

Idk if this will make sense — and maybe this is how everybody thinks and I just can’t control my urge to say it in the end — but here is kind of how I understand idioms in a way that leads to comedy (using “fly on the wall” as an example bc it’s easy to see where the idiom comes from and the literal and figurative lines of thinking both end in a funny things, so you end up with a double joke):

And genuinely nobody finds it as funny as I do, but I have to say it. I have no other response and I think it’s neat! I do it in real time, I am quick! But it really does lead me to pointless stress, which is why I started thinking about if other people think like that in the first place — because maybe I stress for NOTHING.

I had a conversation with an internet stranger yesterday where I talked about being ace/sex-repulsed and then later said “I think my gender is turned off”, and now I’m worried that it came across as related to asexuality rather than power switches. Not even a big deal, and like I said, it was a total stranger I’ll probably never talk to again anyway, but it still upsets me that I wasn’t clearer. That is why every single tweet, tumblr post, and reddit comment I make gets a solid 30-45 minutes of editing for clarity before posting. I need people to know exactly what I mean.

But maybe people would simply not think of those interpretations? They don’t necessarily seem to, but then again, maybe they just don’t bring it up because it’s obvious what is meant and it’s not relevant. Or maybe they don’t find it funny. Maybe Ezra did not even think to interpret “cleaner at the golf course” that way.

It is so confusing because my brain is NORMAL to me. I cannot tell and I don’t want to be the obnoxious “DAE?” person lmfao.

It would make me a little sad if NT people actually do think this way and simply don’t like hearing it, tbh :(

#idek what this is #its just me rambling about (maybe) autism things i guess?#long story short; hannah gadsby is very funny and ezra klein did not appreciate it enough!!!#and that is a Big Fucking Mood

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨) 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3.8K

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @yunhofingers @brie02 @deja-vux @multidreams-and-desires @rvse-miingi

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Swerving into the sidewalk, the female took less than 5 seconds to fit herself into the passenger seat and slam the door behind her. Stepping on the accelerator, her partner's eyes looked firmly forward as he maneuvered himself through the alleys to safely get them out of the city without having to use the main highways. Once making sure no one was following them, they both breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful that the mission had run smoothly.

"Got it?" The male asked.

Reaching into her cleavage, she took out a folded piece of paper and held it in front of him, the male slightly cringing when he saw where it had came from.

"Like taking candy from a baby." She snorted before stuffing the piece of paper in the glove compartment.

As if on cue, the small screen on the dashboard began blinking, letting them know someone was trying to contact them. Pressing the answer button, the driver looked momentarily to see the face of their leader pop up.

"Tell me neither of you got your limbs torn off." He voiced his concern.

"We're on our way back already, give us an hour and we'll be there."

Satisfied at the success of the mission, the platinum blonde male looked over at the woman who simply had her arms crossed over her chest, staring daggers at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice Y/N." He smiled at her.

"Oh shove it up your ass Hongjoong. It was embarrassing enough to dress like a whore let alone have some middle aged man grope my body. I would rather be bored to death walting in a car like Yunho did." She was fuming, still disgusted at the ordeal she had to go through, even her partner grimaced slightly when he thought about what she had to go through.

"But it was a success right? Thanks to the fast acting sedative Yeosang gave you." Hongjoong tried to reason with her.

"Whatever, as long as she doesn't have to do those dirty jobs again I think we're fine." Yunho piped up, unconsciously gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

Hongjoong held back a smirk threatening to form across his lips.

"All right then. I expect you both here very soon."

With the screen going black, the pair just sat there in silence, one focused on the road while the other opted for looking out the window, having no other amusement besides the endless trees surrounding their path.

"Why even would you care about me doing jobs like this?"

Yunho was not expecting her to talk let alone ask a question like that out a nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean. What you said to Hongjoong before, why should you care about me having to do these kinds of jobs?"

Yunho stayed quiet, pondering over his next words.

"I just....working so long with you I naturally feel an attract- a concern!...over your well being." He quickly corrected himself.

"I just think you're too talented and too good at your job to have to sink down that low just because Hongjoong wants to use the easy way."

Y/N had an amused look on her face as she listened intently to Yunho's words. Scanning him all over, she wasn't going to lie she found him extremely good looking and she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about fucking him more than once. She had often heard the snickers and teasing San and Wooyoung often directed at him too and she was more than curious to find out whether the rumors were true or not.

"You know what I think Yuyu?"

The way he suddenly straightened up and swallowed hard at the nickname did not go unnoticed by her. Taking off her seatbelt, she leaned over to him, her breath ghosting over his ear.

"I think you're jealous." She giggled when he moved his face away from her proximity.

"Why would I be jealous?" He cleared his throat, keeping a straight poker face one.

With a sly smile, Y/N began unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

"Cause some rival actually got to do what you wish you could do but are too scared to."

Yunho inhaled deeply when he felt her nose pressed up against his neck, lips dragging themselves up his jaw.

"And what exactly would that be?" Although he seemed nonchalant about her behavior, truth was he desperately wanted to know just how far the dirty bastard had gotten with his gorgeous partner.

"Oh you know the usual..... a kiss, with tongue involved." As she said that she made sure to lick the shell of his ear.

"A hand in between someone's legs, cupping a certain member."

Yunho let out a groan when he felt her hand squeeze at his growing erection, palming him through his trousers.

"Or fingers sliding up thighs and inside a little black dress."

Yunho's eyes widened significantly at her description.

"How far did they go?" His knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

"That's not important-"

"How far did he go?" The sudden raise in his voice startled her slightly, but it also meant that perhaps her plan was working.

"If you really must know.....he got 2 fingers in before passing out cold."

Y/N could see a tiny vein poking out from the side of his neck, telltale sign that he was really trying hard to not loose his temper. Looking away from her, she heard him mutter a soft 'damn him' before turning his eyes back on the road. Wanting to further anger him, she decided to throw in a little lie in her story.

"Had to readjust my dress after he was knocked out and wipe some of the spit off my chest."

Yunho's reaction was instant as he gripped her hand that up to now had still been groping at his cock, crushing her fingers in his palm.

"What do you mean wipe spit off? He saw your chest?" His pale complexion was suddenly turning a light pinkish and red shade.

"Saw, kissed, licked, bit the girls, you get the gist."

Releasing his harsh grip on her hand, Yunho took a deep breath, trying to remain calm but no longer being able to hold himself back from doing something he had been wanting to do for a long time.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me." He suddenly ordered her.

Y/N was so taken aback by his instructions that she looked at him as if he was crazy.

"What?"

Rolling his eyes, Yunho repeated himself.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me."

Turning on the cruise control on the car, Yunho looked over at Y/N, eyes burning with anger.

"Don't fucking make me repeat myself."

Y/N wanted to laugh at how silly he sounded, which he noticed how she held back a snort and he did not appreciate it.

"What if I don't want to?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't ask what you wanted, I gave you an order."

Wanting to further test him, Y/N smirked.

"Why don't you make me?"

"Gladly."

She shuddered when she heard the sound of a gun cocking and then gulped when Yunho held it right in front of her face.

"Now babygirl....let's try this again. Those panties, off." He said as he pointed the gun down at her legs.

Reaching into her dress, Y/N peeled her underwear down her legs, embarrassed about the wet patch that was in between them caused by her teasing on her partner. Looking over, Yunho chuckled when it did not go unnoticed by him. With one hand still on the steering wheel, he used the hand that held the gun and dragged it across her thigh in slow, circular motions.

"Spread those pretty legs for me now."

Tapping the inside of her thigh, the corners of his lip curled when he heard her shift in her seat, signaling that she was obeying him. Taking a peek, he was not satisfied with the results.

"Spread them out as far as your able to baby, and lift up that dress of yours. Let me see how wet your little cunt is." The gun he held was already lifting part of her dress up.

Sitting up, Y/N lifted her dress up to her waist before spreading her legs out, feeling the cool air breeze at her glistening folds. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, Yunho admired the beautiful picture sitting next to him, all pliant and awaiting further instructions.

"Fuck you have a really pretty pussy."

Y/N bit down on her lip when she felt the barrel of his gun press against her clit before dragging her her folds, collecting much of her already formed arousal.

"What if I just shoved it inside that filthy hole of yours? Fuck you with my gun? You'd probably like that wouldn't you?"

Y/N gasped when she felt the gun poke at her entrance, her walls already tightening themselves. But instead Yunho simply pulled the gun back, bringing it up to his face before licking off the juices left over. Y/N couldn't keep her mouth from falling open slightly as she watched him practically eat up her slick. Setting the gun down on one of the cup holders, Yunho snaked his hand in between her legs, thumb pressing against her nub which had her inhaling sharply.

"Such a sensitive little one....and so responsive."

His thumb began to draw circles around her clit, flicking against it occasionally. Y/N couldn't understand how he could still be focused on maneuvering the wheel without getting distracted or being lazy with the movements on her mound. The way his thumb worked her clit was so precise, so skilled, as if he knew exact what to do to get her more and more worked up with each brush of his thumb. When he moved his thumb away it was only so he could slide one of his long and slender fingers inside her.

"Oh fuck." Y/N's hands gripped at the arm rest as she felt his finger reach so deep in her.

"What never had something this long in you before?" He snickered amusedly.

Slowly, he pumped his finger in and out the her, loving the way her walls seemed to suck him back in whenever he pulled out. Y/N decided to close her eyes and just enjoy as her longtime partner invaded her most intimate part, first with one finger which was soon joined by a second one, further stretching her out.

"So warm...." Yunho mused while curling his fingers upwards.

"That feels so good."

Yunho felt proud of himself as he heard her say that, ego boosted further by the tiny sighs her nose breathed out.

"Yeah? You like my fingers inside you baby? Like having them inside your tight pussy?"

Y/N moaned in response when he began thrusting his fingers with more force, sloppy sounds being heard throughout the car due to how wet she was. Her thighs began to close around his hand, which resulted in Yunho slipping his fingers out before landing a harsh slap on her clit that had her nearly jumping in her seat.

"Keep those legs open for me you slut. After all, that's all you're good at."

If it had been anybody else, she would have slapped them for saying that. But something about Yunho actually had her nearly cumming at his words. Spreading her legs once again, she welcomed his fingers once more, bottom lip caught in between her teeth.

"You said he got 2 fingers in? Tsk. Pathetic. I bet I can top that."

Y/N's mouth dropped open into a perfect oval shape as Yunho stuffed yet a third finger in her, momentarily slowing his pace down so he could brush the tips of his fingers against the roof of her walls. He knew he found what he was looking for when she let out a particularly loud moan and her legs shook.

"Found you."

Y/N began writhing in her seat as Yunho jammed his fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace, his tips always making sure to brush at her g-spot. Yunho had a smug grin throughout the whole time, every 5 seconds or so he looked back to watch Y/N's blushed face as his hand fucked her.

"If you're already this worked up about just my fingers, I can't wait to see what you'll be like when I'm fucking you balls deep."

Y/N whipped her head at him after he said that, her incredulous eyes meeting his haughty ones.

"Yes Y/N, this is merely a prep to get you ready for my cock. I need you stretched open so you can fit my massive cock inside that tiny pussy of yours."

Y/N threw her head back as she began picturing getting fucked by his cock.

"Oh my- oh my God! Fuck!"

Yunho's speed never slowed down even after he felt her cum all over his fingers, wanting her to keep the high for as long as possible. He wanted to make sure he managed to get her to spill out as much as possible. Only until he felt her come down from her high did he remove his fingers from inside her. Holding them up to her lips, his thumb grazed her bottom lip.

"Taste yourself baby."

Her mouth opened and enveloped his fingers inside it. She hummed against his fingers as she sucked off her juices off them. Yunho didn't pull them out of her mouth until he was sure she had licked them clean. Wiping himself off on his pants, he then undid his zipper and began pulling himself out of his tight confinement.

"Be a good girl and suck me off baby. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work."

Seeing him whip out his massive length had her drooling over it. It was the biggest cock she had ever seen in her life and she couldn't believe that she'd actually have that in her soon, no doubt destroying and rearranging her insides. As she kept staring at it, she was smacked out of her trance when Yunho harshly yanked her down by her hair and pressed her face against his dick.

"Are you already too dumb to obey a simple order from just getting fingered? Or from seeing my huge cock?"

With his grip still on her hair, Yunho guided her so her nose brushed all around his length, making her sniff him which she gladly did.

"If you're really that much of a cockslut then you should have no problem sucking me off. Now get to it."

Opening her mouth, Y/N first took his thick head in her mouth, giving his slit a little dig with her tongue which made Yunho groan. Being in the mood for teasing him, she kept only his head in her mouth for the meantime, sometimes pulling off to give his slit sweet kitten licks before slurping around it once more, making sure to moan as dramatically as she could.

Knowing what her game was, Yunho wasn't having any of it.

"I know you can do a lot better than that you slut. Or did you forget how to suck dick?"

Putting one hand on the back of her head, he smoothed out her hair, petting and stroking her head in such a caring and tender way, all while having a sadistic look plastered on.

"It's ok, let me remind you."

Y/N gagged as she felt Yunho push her down his length, her nose hitting against his pubic bone. He held her there for a few seconds before pulling her back up from her hair. Letting her gasp for air first, Yunho fisted some more of her hair in his fingers before shoving her back down his length. His hips would often come up to stuff more of his length down her throat. Her mouth was so warm and he loved hearing her choke around his cock. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out as much as possible, sucking as much as Yunho as she could without gagging too much. The car was filled with her slurping and gagging sounds, and whenever Yunho would look down to see the mess she was it only fueled the feeling that was brewing in his lower stomach.

"Shit! You're going to make me cum- cum inside your mouth."

Yunho tried so hard to focus on not swerving out of the lane. He was thankful it was a deserted road that hardly anyone used, otherwise he would never have gotten away with face fucking Y/N as he drove. Hearing him finally start spewing out lewd sounds from his mouth had made Y/N proud. Sloppily, she kept deepthroating him, letting his head hit the back of her mouth as her hand reached over to cup his balls, massaging them in her palms.

Yunho began frantically bucking his hips up.

"Shit! I'm going to cum- Oh fuck!."

Swiftly pulling her off him, she had saliva trickling down her chin, lips swollen and red after making her practically swallow him whole. Y/N was confused when Yunho suddenly got off the road and parked the car. Struggling to take off his seatbelt, Yunho turned his attention to her.

"Backseat."

Getting the hint, Y/N got out of the car, pulling the rest of her dress over her head in the process. Opening the door, she quickly climbed into the backseat where seconds after Yunho joined her. He practically slammed the door behind him. Pulling his pants further down, he began pumping himself, spreading more of his precum around his shaft.

"Get on top of me."

Not needing to be told twice, Y/N climbed on top with his lap, a little too earnestly given how she hit her head on the roof of the car.

"Watch your head." He teased her.

"Fuck off." She hissed as she rubbed her head.

Holding her hips, Yunho lifted her up and then sunk her down onto his length. Y/N shuddered then stood still as his enormous length ripped right through her, stretching her far beyond anything she ever felt.

"I'd rather fuck you if you don't mind."

Y/N couldn't contain her whimpers and shrieks as Yunho slammed his hips into her, fingers digging into her ass to hold her down on his lap. Her hands held onto the top of the seats to keep herself from bouncing too much and accidentally hitting her head again. She cried out harder when Yunho angled his hips so he'd hit at her g-spot over and over again. Their heavy panting and breathing, mixed with the steam and sweat their bodies were producing was staring to make the windows fog up.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to fuck you."

Y/N gasped when one of his hands came up to wrap itself around her neck, not pressing down at it but it made her shiver in anticipation at what he was going to do.

"Seeing you parade yourself in such short skirts during meetings, bending down and having everybody stare at your ass or tits-"

Letting out an animalistic growl, Yunho's hand gripped her jaw tightly, squishing her cheeks together to the point of hurting.

"Made me want to bend you over the table and spank your ass red before fucking it in front of everyone."

Releasing her jaw, his hand once more went to her neck, except now he gripped it tightly, cutting off part of her oxygen intake. Yunho grunted as he felt her walls compress around his length. Leaning his head to her chest, he began to suck and bite all across her breasts and sternum, not satisfied until he was sure to leave purple marks on it. Yunho continued to bounce her on his cock, loving the way her eyes shut tightly and her mouth stayed agape and poured out such sinful sounds. Because of his hand on her neck, she tried to warn him that she was about to cum but instead gibberish came out.

He understood though what she was trying to say.

"Awww is my little slut going to cum so soon? How desperate and needy were you that you're about to burst anytime now?"

Y/N began tearing up at his words and the endless strokes of his head hitting so deep in her.

"Or do you just love my monster cock that much?"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began quivering on top of him.

"Fuck! Yes- love your monster- oh god!"

Feeling her cum all over him, it didn't take no more than a couple more roll of his hips for Yunho to start pumping his seed into her, deep and raspy grunts spilling from his throat as he continued to grind himself into her so as to ride out their orgasms.

Once they both came down from their highs, Yunho tilted Y/N's face up so he could kiss her. His kiss was desperate and his lips would harshly nip and tuck at her bottom lip, biting down and making it more swollen than it already was.

"You're mine now doll. I'm claiming you as my own. From now on anybody who wants you has to step over my dead body first."

Y/N giggled and blushed at his words, not against being Yunho's property one bit. Her fingers ran themselves through his hair as she kissed him back with the same amount of passed he had. Their kiss was interrupted by the loud buzzing of Yunho's phone.

"Shit." Yunho muttered as he reached for his phone, grimacing when he saw it was Hongjoong.

"Hello?"

Hongjoong's voice boomed through the speaker.

"Where the fuck are you two?! It's been over 2 hours! You should have been back a long ass time ago!"

They both looked at each other, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

"Uh.....we stopped for ice cream?" Yunho tried to make up an excuse.

"I'm not in the mood for games Yunho, so tell me what the fuck happened. Did you two get chased?"

With a shit eating grin on his face, Yunho stared straight at Y/N as he said the next words.

"Well if you really want to know, I just got done fucking my sweet partner in the backseat of the car."

They could hear Hongjoong wheezing while someone in the background started screaming hysterically.

"And you're going to be waiting for us more cause I'm not done with her yet...."

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786 notes · View notes

blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

It's just turned monday here and I know I'll forget about it in the morning so... For some reasons (insert furious handwaving) Maul was married off to Jaster to cement an alliance with the Mandalorians. Maul is pissed off but can't afford to be sent back so he's just. Silent and glowering. This is torture for Jaster, who has SO MANY QUESTIONS about the force and can't get a word out of Maul. Jaster learns to echolocate facts about the force by confidently saying things and measuring how wrong they are by how much Maul grinds his teeth. (Maybe he'll hit upon the thing that will make his new husband finally open his mouth and correct him)

Maul is going to make himself a widower in short order.

Murderous, faintly sleep-deprived, entirely fed up with absolutely everything, Maul slouches in his chair, one foot braced on the seat, and glares across the table at his new husband, contemplating whether he can refine his technique enough to actually murder someone with his eyes. Even if he can't, the excess of gold he’s wearing has to be good for something. Jaster won't be able to spout his stupid theories if he’s choking on five kilograms of jewelry.

“Don’t be silly, Arla,” Jaster says, in that particular confident tone that truly drives Maul to the edge of homicide. “Force-users have a long history of translocating themselves across vast distances.” There's a pause, and Maul ignores the dark eyes on him, watchful and amused, and instead contemplates how hard he’d have to throw the delicate curls of gold currently wound around his horns for them to kill a man.

Then, with the conviction of a man who’s never been mauled by a Zabrak for his sheer idiocy, Jaster says, “And besides, everyone knows of their ability to change their shape on a molecular level.”

A vein in Maul's temple probably throbs. He definitelygrinds his teeth, trying desperately to remember that Savage and Feral are both currently under Mother Talzin’s thumb, both sold into their own marriages to bring her power as she plays all sides. Serving the Sith Lord before his untimely demise wasn’t precisely better, but—

At least the safety of his brothers didn’t rest on Maul's ability to tolerate sheer stupidity.

Jaster doesn’t show any signs of recognizing that his lack of intelligence is causing Maul physical pain. He simply sinks back in his chair, swirling his wine in his glass, and smiles at Maul like he’s won something. “No shapeshifting, then?” he asks, amused.

Maul narrows his eyes, tips his head back to look down his nose at Jaster. Thinks, determinedly and a little bit mulishly, of Feral married to the clone army’s Marshal Commander, of Savage wed to a Jedi and forced to play husband to the new Master of the Order. Kit Fisto isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi, but Maul has no faith in a Jedi’s willingness to guard his younger brothers from Talzin. Clearly it falls to Maul to uphold this bargain, at least well enough to establish a safe place for Savage and Feral to flee to when they’re inevitably betrayed.

“Still no words for me, husband?” Jaster asks, still smiling. Maul might think him attractive if he weren’t so frustrating. “You were willing to exchange words at the wedding, but I've rarely been blessed with your opinions since.”

“Jaster,” Arla says, rolling her eyes from further down the table. Deliberately, like she’s making a point, she reaches out, tips more wine out of the pitcher and into her cup, and then downs it. “Please. Some of us are trying to eat here.”

“I'm hardly stopping you,” Jaster protests, entirely innocent. Maul twists one of the rings on his fingers and contemplates how much force he’d need to embed it in the wall above Jaster's head, as a warning. “I was just saying, Maul can finally confirm what I've known for years, which is that as the Force is the manifestation of a vast creature of entropy—”

Maul is going to break a tooth, he’s grinding them so hard. He digs his fingers into the arm of his chair, the black cloth of his formal wear, and fixes the image of Feral in that last moment before parting in his mind. Feral, thin and weak from punishment at the Nightsisters’ hands, being tradedto Commander Cody, passed into the ranks of the vast army made with stolen DNA and set against the Republic. Feral will suffer if Maul breaks this alliance. Talzin made that very clear, and Maul has little enough family as it is. He isn't about to lose his brothers. Not for this.

Jango, slumped down on Arla's other side and looking as though he greatly regrets agreeing to this dinner, groans and buries his face in his hands. “Old man, if you can't even flirt normally—”

“It’s not flirting, it’s science,” Jaster says. “I have a theory. Maul, would you care to help me prove it right?”

Since Maul would much rather attempt to drown Jaster in his soup, he bites his tongue and glares.

Jaster beams. “The Force,” he says, and Maul braces for impact, “is the expression of a vast hive mind beyond the known galaxy—”

It’s worse than Maul thought. He’s going to physically implode if he has to listen to this for one second longer—

“The Force,” Jaster says again, still watching Maul, “is an energy field created by living things.”

Not quite correct, but certainly more so than hive minds, and Maul only rolls his eyes a little. “If you're quite done,” he says darkly, because he knows what Jaster is doing, but that doesn’t exactly make it easier to bear.

Jaster chuckles, leaning across the table to pour Maul more wine. “For now,” he promises. “Though if you're open to a debate on the origins of the Jedi as a cohesive order—ow!”

One of the small, bright red fruits pegs Jaster squarely in the side of the head and bounces off. Not, surprisingly, thrown by Maul, and he blinks, casting a look sideways down the table, to where Jaster's majordomo is veryinterested in the last few spoonfuls of liquid remaining in his bowl. There is, notably, a bowl of the fruits right in front of him.

“Treachery,” Jaster complains, straightening with an offended expression. “Jango—”

“If it had been me, I would have thrown my whole plate at you,” Jango says, raising his hands. “Blame Arla.”

“If it had been me, it would have been a knife,” Arla says, clearly already a little tipsy, and single-mindedly trying to get herself right to drunk.

Well. Maul can appreciate the assistance of an ally, when the circumstances are right. He opens his mouth to take credit—

“Did you know,” Jaster says, perfectly certain, “that each lightsaber’s color represents the phase of the moon under which it was mined, and the resonance of them—”

Maul is going to murder him, delicate political alliances be damned. Feral will understand. With a low growl, he shoves himself up, lunges across the table, and grabs Jaster by the collar of his shirt, hauling them in until they're eye to eye.

“You,” he bites out, “are the most imbecilic manI have ever had the vast misfortune to meet. That is not how lightsabers work.”

“Oh?” Jaster asks with interest, leaning in even as Maul's eyes narrow. He smirks, his hand curling over Maul's, lacing their fingers, and then he deliberately, like a dare, raises Maul's hand to his lips. “Tell me more?”

Maul picks up his soup bowl and coolly upends it over his head. Truly, such a request deserves no other possible response.

[On AO3]

#my writing #PBP I HATE THAT YOU MADE ME SHIP THIS SO HARD #jastermaul #jaster mereel #darth maul

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stargazer-balladeer · 3 years

Text

[ii] - were you always this cute?

Word Count: 2.6k

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“I promise that I’ll make you fall for me!”

Those words keep echoing in your head endlessly, making you more embarrassed and frustrated. A proclamation you made earlier keeps replaying in your head, including the face that Albedo made making your cheeks warm at the memory of him smirking. Even though you said those words to him, you didn’t exactly have a plan or an idea on how to do it. Were you supposed to immediately act on it or what? How the hell are you supposed to do this? Why did you even say that when you don’t even know what he likes? Saying those words with much confidence because you were too caught up in the moment. Turning your head around to stuff it on your pillow before letting out a scream. Why does it sound so easy to say yet so hard to act on it? Growling to yourself, you sat up and opened your phone. You aren’t going to give up on this easily, you gave your word to Albedo and you’ll stick to it.

Sending the message you typed, you put your phone on your side as you await for their response.

“So let me get this straight… you want to know how to make someone fall in love with you, correct?” You nodded your head, almost too eagerly. Watching her sigh as she sent you a pointed glare. “And what makes you think that I’m an expert in this department again?” “You have a harem.” You shrugged, taking a sip on your drink. Lumine sighed once more, rubbing her temples. “Just because many people likes me doesn’t mean that I’m an expert in love.” Setting down your drink, pouting at her as you stare at her pitifully. “I just need help, Lumi~ I don’t know what to do…” “That’s not my problem.” Lumine snapped, taking a sip on her milk tea.

Sighing, you knew from the beginning that this wasn’t easy. Lumine could be more stubborn than her twin brother, Aether. You wished you asked help from him but he’s friends with Venti, who was known to be a gossip queen. As much as you love Aether, you couldn’t help but sigh at his rather naive personality. He could be so gullible sometimes. Lumine, on the other hand, can keep a secret and is rather introverted. If you have to describe Aether and Lumine, Aether would be the sun due to his extroverted nature while Lumine is the moon due to her mysterious nature. “So, who’s the boy?” Lumine suddenly asked, staring at you. Pursuing your lips, you hesitantly told her. “It’s Albedo…” You told her.

Her eyes widened a bit before returning to normal. “Ah… I see.” She said, looking away. Tilting your head slightly at her odd behavior but decided to brush it off. “I just want to know what he likes and dislikes. What I should do and what I shouldn’t do around him.” You elaborated further. Lumine nodded her head, her eyes looking away. “The best advice I could think of right now is you should be you,” Lumine said, returning her gaze to you. “Much like the people I’ve met that came from Mondstadt, he prefers people that are true to themselves and won’t let anyone’s judgment affect them in any way.”

Nodding your head, trusting her advice. It was better than nothing you suppose. “Thanks, Lumi! I knew I could count on you!” You said while smiling brightly at her. You didn’t notice how forced her smile is or the bitterness behind her words. “Glad to help as always…”

Walking through the hallways with your mind drifting off as usual, and because of this, you didn’t notice the person in front of you. Which resulted in you accidentally colliding with them. “Sorry! I wasn’t looking.” You apologized, looking up to meet a pair of pointed cold amber eyes, much colder than Albedo’s and much fiercer. His hair green with a streak of light green and a purple diamond-shaped on his forehead, wearing a black-themed outfit. He seems familiar to you for some reason… “Watch where you’re going next time.” He huffed, turning around and walking away from you. Glaring at his retreating figure before rolling your eyes. “Rude.”

Deciding to just ignore the rude emo boy, you continued your way to your class. Adjusting the straps of your bag, you arrived at your destination. Taking a breath before sliding the door to enter, immediately getting swarmed by greetings from your classmates. Returning the gesture with a greeting of your own, you made your way to your desk. Hu tao’s bag or hat isn’t present yet on her desk so you assume that she’ll be late again. Taking a peek at the desk horizontally to yours in a different row (so like his seat is northwest from yours), you noticed he wasn’t there either. Probably in the lab, making some experiments before class starts. Shrugging, you take a seat and start to set up the things you need for your first period.

Grabbing a spare notebook and flipping the pages until you find a blank page, you then grab a pencil and start to sketch. It wasn’t anything special or amazing compared to those art students who are amazing in drawing and painting, it was just a simple glaze lily that you saw while on your way to school. Stroking your pencil absentmindedly but still with precision, your mind half there but at the same time not. While stroking the petals of the flower, you didn’t notice someone watching you sketch from the side. “Your drawing skill is quite excellent. The way you accurately stroke your pencil with how glaze lily looks like… I’m quite impressed.”

Flinching at the sudden familiar deep voice, you slammed your notebook in surprise, whipping your head to the side to see Albedo staring at you. Locking eyes with one another, he tilted his head. “Why’d you stop?” He asked, his mouth in a small frown. Feeling your face heating up, you looked away. “I-It’s not that great. I was just… drawing randomly.” You said, your mind still not with you. Fidgeting slightly, you heard him hum in response and shuffling sound. “Really? I don’t see it that way.” Slowly raising your head to him but not quite meeting his eyes, you raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s lovely. Far better than any drawings I’ve seen so far.” Giving you a small smile before walking to his desk, leaving you dazed at what happened. After a few moments your mind finally comprehends what’s happening, you slammed your head to your desk, earning a lot of weird and concerned looks from your classmates. Only one found your reaction adorable and amusing. “Heyy~ are you trying to kill yourself or something~?” You heard your friend’s voice echoing beside you. “If you want to die already, I can give you a discount for being my best friend~!”

Albedo watches as the teacher continues to teach the rather boring topic that he knows already. Tapping his pen once in a while on his desk as he wishes for classes to end already. If he would have to choose his favorite teacher so far, it’ll be Mr. Zhongli. The way he teaches is rather unique, and what Albedo admires about him is his endless knowledge about certain things, most especially glaze lilies. Speaking of glaze lily, he looked at the corner of his eyes to see you almost asleep on your desk. Eyes almost closing and head on your palm, as you tried to stay awake. He watches amusingly as your head almost falls over and the desk. Hiding his growing smile behind his palm, he stares forward again.

“Miss [L/N]. Are you listening or are you busy trying not to fall asleep there?” The teacher’s voice boomed through the room, making everyone jump, most especially you. Watching your reaction at the corner of his eyes, he watches as you sit up straight, not anymore sleepy. “No ma’am! Sorry…” You said while smiling sheepishly. Stifling his chuckle as the teacher huffed at your response. “If I see you sleeping again, I’ll give you detention and more homework.” Nodding at what your teacher said, he watches as Hu tao teases you. His eyes look at your smiling face, the way your eyes wrinkle when you smile, when your nose scrunches up, and the way your eyes shine.

Were you always this adorable?

“Ah, miss [L/N]. May I have a favor to ask you?” The silky and commanding voice of your economics teacher rang through the room after the bell finished ringing. Looking up to meet the ruby-colored eyes of miss Ningguang, you hesitantly nodded your head. Bidding a quick goodbye to Hu tao, you quickly made your way to your teacher. She crossed her arms as she smiled at you softly, which made her look more beautiful. “What is it, miss Ningguang?” “I need you to deliver something for me. You see, a fellow colleague of mine was in a hurry earlier and requested me to bring these supplies to the laboratory. But I still have a meeting to attend to now, so can I ask you to deliver these to Laboratory 2? Just place it on any desk.” She explained. Laboratory 2? Isn’t that where Albedo’s club is? You decided to nod your head since you have nothing better to do anyway, and gives you an excuse to see Albedo but no one needs to know about that. “Sure miss Ningguang! I’ll deliver these for you.”

“Good. You are dismissed now.”

Carrying the box that contains the supplies, you carefully navigated through the hall, minding other students and being careful not to bump into any of them. Laboratory 2 was upstairs near the third-years. “Ah! Miss [Y/N]!” Someone’s voice called from behind, making you look and see Sucrose smiling bashfully. “How are you, miss [Y/N]?” She asked, going to your side and noticing the box you’re holding. “And what’s in the box?” “It contains supplies for Laboratory 2. Miss Ningguang made me deliver it.” You answered while smiling. “And I’m doing alright. You?” Sucrose nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m doing excellent! I managed to recite in class without stuttering today!” Chuckling at her enthusiasm, you would’ve hugged her if it weren’t for the box you’re holding.

“That’s great! Good job.” She laughs sheepishly, her pale cheeks turning pink, still not used at how openly you praised her. “Anyways! I’m actually heading to Laboratory 2 now. Why don’t we go together?” Nodding your head, you two continued your walk to the lab, talking along the way. You knew Sucrose ever since she moved to the house right next to yours, effectively making her your neighbor. She was still as shy as ever, even when you two were kids. Even though you were older than her by three years, it doesn’t stop you to hang out with Sucrose. Sucrose actually skipped two years during middle school, which makes her the youngest among the first years.

You soon arrived at your destination making your conversation with your shy friend come to an end, sliding the door for you. “Thanks.” Entering the room, your eyes immediately landed on the figure inside, who was busy sketching something in the paper. “Good afternoon Mr. Albedo.” Sucrose greeted, which made Albedo look up to see you and Sucrose entering the room, he nodded in greeting “Good afternoon Sucrose. What brings you here, [Y/N]?” He asked, curious why you’re here until he noticed the box in your hands and realized why you’re here. “Ah. Is that the supplies? Thank you for bringing it.” Setting down his clipboard on the table and walked to where you stood. Sucrose went in already and started to set her things up on another desk, which you guessed hers.

“This must’ve been heavy. Sorry for the inconvenience.” He said, getting the box from you and gently placing it on a spare desk. “No no! It’s okay.” You said, reassuring him with a smile on your face. He nodded his head while glancing at Sucrose, who was now busy with tinkering an old-looking clock. His eyes glanced back at you. “Are you about to go home now?” He asked, his eyes unconsciously inspecting your face which made you self-conscious. Starting to play with your hands, you shake your head. “N-Not really. Since I have nothing better to do, I’ll drop by the library today.” You said, averting your eyes. Humming at your answer, he nodded his head. “I see.. Take care then.”

“Ah, Sucrose. I have to go now. I forgot that I have to pick-up Klee at her school.” Albedo announced when he realized how much time had passed after he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Sucrose nodded her head while smiling slightly. “Ok, Mr. Albedo. Take care while going home!” “Same to you.” After Albedo closes the door, he sighed while running a hand through his hair. An experiment has gone wrong earlier when Sucrose accidentally gave him the wrong potion, as much as he was annoyed, he doesn’t have the heart to scold the soft-hearted girl so he lets it go. Opening his eyes and adjusting his bag, he started to walk through the empty halls. It was already 6, which means almost everyone is gone from school, save from those people that have clubs.

When he steps out, he takes a deep breath. He’s been inside that lab for a long time now, it’s nice to have fresh air now. While walking though, he passed by an open window. His eyes decided to take a peek inside and noticed a familiar person sleeping peacefully in the window, you. You were sleeping on top of your arms, facing at the side making Albedo see your peaceful sleeping face, and underneath your arms was a book. Furrowing his brows, he stopped walking and stared at your sleeping figure. Don’t you know how dangerous it is to sleep in an open window? What if someone passed by and took a picture of you? Or stolen something from you? Or someone stupid deciding to kidnap you?

Huffing at your naivety, but he can’t help but watch you sleep. A strand of hair fell on your face, almost like an instinct, Albedo’s hand moved on its own and tucked the strand behind your ear. By now, he was close enough to see the smallest details in your face. Normally, he doesn’t care about anyone. But why does this person make him feel things that he’s never felt before with anyone? Sighing as he leans back, turns around before leaning on the wall and sliding down. What did you do to him to make him feel this way? Feeling his cheeks heat up, he huffed.

Ever since you made that declaration the other day, he couldn’t get you off his mind. Out of everyone in his class, he noticed you the most. He thought it was because of how often you get in trouble with the teacher or your hyperactive friend. But when you confessed to him that day, he felt his heart skip a beat. He recalled how scared he was, why did it beat? If he was being honest, he didn’t know what he was saying until he heard you sobbing. He made you cry. Never in his life thought he would experience this kind of pain. But the almighty Albedo would never admit it.

This is not love, he thought as he stood up and adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Taking a glance at your sleeping figure, now noticing that you’re slightly shivering. He sighed as he started to walk. “I’m not in love.” He mumbled under his breath.

Tagging: - - - *

@fanfictionenthusiast @mintkyo @shiro-no-hana @qimiie @akemeru @duhsies @izayami

#albedo.series #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

scrubs.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: none

> next chapter

The coffee cup was laying neatly on his desk by the computer screen with surgeon-like precision. After years and years of studying, being an intern, and serving crazy, late or early rotas, Sebastian had got used to being the resident doctor. His routine, although unpredictable, had some sort of shape and one of the things he enjoyed doing was having his cup of coffee while looking at his first patient’s record before he could come in. Of course, like in every single job, there were unpredictable factors and for him it always seemed to be lack of test results in his record files.

- Hey ... - he called out for one of the nurses who was passing by. She stopped by his door, poking her head in. - Where are the blood culture results from this patient?

- The laboratory sent the samples back up. You’ll have to order a blood culture again.

- Fucking hell ... - he mumbled to himself, throwing the file onto the table.

Of course, Sebastian never got to fully take his coffee. If he did, it normally meant she was on holiday. The biggest unpredictability of the job wasn’t the patients or the constant urgencies, no, the biggest unpredictability in his job was a woman. Not just every woman, no, a biomedical scientist in the microbiology department which always seemed to deny his tests or contest every medical opinion he had.

He sighed as he pressed the lift’s button to the laboratory floor. There was always an unseen line between the doctors, nurses and assistants on the upper floors and the laboratory staff on the lower floor. Doctors barely showed up in the laboratory yet again not all doctors had a biomedical scientist after them. Actually, no other doctor had a war with a biomedical scientist, just him. Lucky him.

- Stan, put a lab coat on. - speaking of the devil. - Did they not tech you health and safety in med school?

- It’s Dr. Stan. - he grudgingly grabbed the lab coat she has extended over to him, stopping him from getting any further into her department. She was right about that, but he wasn’t gonna give her that. - It’s 8 AM, are you already hiding from your responsibilities?

- Where are my blood culture results, Y/N? I have a patient coming in 50 minutes and I can’t tell them what’s wrong with them.

- That’s not my problem. - she turned around but he followed her still. - Will you please leave? I have work to do.

- Oh really? Considering you haven’t given me the results, I’d think you just slack off the whole day here. - he sighed. - C’mon, Y/N.

- I’m sorry, Dr. Stan but maybe you should instruct your nurses in what correct blood culture bottle to send the blood samples. If you suspected anaerobic bacteremia why did you sent it in an aerobic bottle? They’re dead, I cannot plate dead bacteria. Now if you please, I have work to do.

- Did they or did you just lose the sample again?

- Unlike you, Dr. Stan I do my job correctly. Now if you don’t mind, I have requests from Doctors who know what they’re doing.

Sebastian grumbled, taking the lab coat on tossing it onto the hook. Y/N grinned to herself as she returned to her microscope, mentally celebrating the fact she had once again managed to upset Dr. Stan. It wasn’t that he was a bad doctor, he wasn’t, he was just too lenient with his staff while Y/N was razor sharp focused on getting work done so whenever a sample came in bad state, unlike other department senior scientists, she’d just deny them and go do tests on good samples. That particular mindset resonated with her superiors but Dr. Stan enjoyed coming downstairs to give her an earful as if she could do something. Well, she could do something, she could go upstairs and train the staff herself but she wasn’t paid for that and it seriously was not her job to do so.

- Dr. Stan, again? - Miriam, one of the scientists who had started around the same time as her and had experienced as many of their fights as there had been, sat by her side. - You two seriously need to fuck.

- Miriam! - she widened her eyes, looking around to see if someone had heard them. - Why don’t you say it louder?

- Listen when me and cute butt from haematology we’re feuding, we fucked it out during the Christmas party and look at us now ... - she smirked taking the necklace with her engagement ring from under her laboratory coat. - Besides, he is a doctor.

- He’s too old. - she returned to inspecting the Gram slide under her microscope, but Miriam had other plans, turning off the light in her microscope.

- He’s in his 30s. That’s a baby in doctor years besides you two are making everyone miserable.

- I will make you miserable if you don’t start analysing the new samples.

Telling a patient he needed to give blood samples again sounded easy enough. After all, Sebastian had had a whole communication module during med school and almost ten years worth of experience yet nothing compared to listening to a patient yell at him before he even had lunch. Surely with the amount of times, Y/N had done this to him he would be used to it now but not when all he’d have was coffee. With a scowl on his face, he walked into the cafeteria. Damned Y/N, damned Y/N and her petty fighting.

- Seb! - Dr. Mackie set his tray on his table. They’d done their residency together and he had even been present when he and Y/N had their first encounter and fight. - Word is you’ve already had your first fight with Y/N. What’d you do now?

- I didn’t do anything. Blood came in the wrong bottle and she didn’t even try doing the test.

- You’re whining, Stan.

- Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I have this patient, keeps complaining that he has an infection but there’s no markers.

- Hey man, I specialised in tropical diseases. Probability is, it’s not that. Why don’t you ask Y/N? She’s a microbiologist and you love to go over to see her.

- Really, Mackie?

- You can ask someone else but you and Y/N like each other so much. Maybe she’ll give you a kiss if you get it right.

- Thanks for nothing, Mackie.

- Hey, maybe if you and her start dating, the upstairs and the downstairs people will finally have a peace alliance.

Back to the microbiology laboratory it was. He couldn’t even remember what the two of them had started bickering about, but he knew it was around the time she had first started at the hospital. It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart, god no, Sebastian knew she was smart and completely capable and probably the reason why she had become a senior scientist quite fast; however, she was extremely argumentative and whenever she had to assist in one of his cases, they always ended up arguing. To be honest, she did look quite adorable whenever she was fuming at him, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pointing aggressively at the results.

- STAN! LAB COAT! - he was taken from his thought by the same woman throwing a laboratory coat on him. - I will report you to the board if you keep walking into my lab without a lab coat on.

- I need your help.

- Okay. - she opened one of the various drawers in the laboratory, taking three bottles and placing it on the table in front of her. - It’s very simple. Yellow for paediatric, red for anaerobic and green for aerobic. Paediatric means child, anaerobic means no air, and aerobic means air.

- Seriously, Y/N? I know what it means.

- Do you? - she cocked an eyebrow at him. - Don’t worry, we got the samples right these time. I have someone working overnight so you’ll have your precious results. Besides, it is probably negative. Looking at the sheet doesn’t really scream bacteremia. It might just be a localised infection which has the potential to become bacteremia. Unless it’s an AMR case, it’s probably no fuss.

- Great. It’s not that I need help with though.

- Can’t you do your own job, Dr. Stan?

- 40 year old male, complaining of infection like symptoms but no markers. - he handed her the file which she skimmed through.

- Did you check for CRP? White blood cell count?

- White blood cell count is slightly high but not in a way which would really indicate an infection. Know of anything like that?

- I can run some tests but I don’t really know. - she shrugged. - Have you asked Dr. Mackie? Patient been in any tropical locations?

- He told me to ask you.

- Aw so even he knows that you suck at being a doctor?

- You know what, Y/N? You would be cute if you weren’t so argumentative.

- Don’t try to butter me up, Dr. Stan. I will ask around my colleagues, see if anyone has any idea before dinner time and then I’ll let you know.

- Are you asking me for dinner?

- Yes, because having dinner in the green light cafetaria with you is totally my idea of romance. I mean, why not take me here now in this table?

- Now, Miss Y/L/N, that’s is against health and safety protocols. You should know.

- Do they not teach you sarcasm in med school?

- We’ll talk about it during our dinner date.

- It is not a dinner date, I’m just giving you data.

- It’s a date. I’m telling everyone.

- Don’t you dare!

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan au #doctor!sebastian stan

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

Some things to know about the upcoming 02-related movie

As someone who seems to be known for being a 02 metablogger now (and 02 lover in general), and who’s been closely following Kizuna’s development and is generally fond of the movie itself, I figured I’d probably need to address the elephant in the room that is the announcement of the upcoming (unnamed, as of this writing) 02-related movie. This is also especially because I’ve personally been on the record saying that I absolutely did not want a Kizuna sequel. And, well, on top of that, to be a bit blunt about it, a lot of us, especially 02 fans, have a lot of reason to be skeptical of Toei right now given some of the things they’ve done with this series in the past, and 02-related things in particular (trust me, the wound is still extremely fresh), so it says a lot about what it took for me to get even remotely positive about this prospect.

Well, here’s the good news: while I of course still think there’s good reason to be apprehensive, and while I wouldn’t say everyone should be getting their expectations up for it to be guaranteed fantastic (which is something I would say about anything, regardless of whether it even has to do with Digimon or not), I don’t think there’s too much to be panicked about with this movie. Again, it took a lot for the staff to gain my trust in this respect, so it’s not something I say lightly. But if you’re a 02 fan and you’re extremely apprehensive, here are my reasons for feeling this way, and, hopefully, they might make you feel a little better too.

The reason this movie exists to begin with

One of the most striking things about this movie’s reveal was that they’ve literally only just started production on this movie. This was to the point that, at DigiFes, where this was revealed, even the voice actors stated outright that they knew absolutely nothing more than what the audience knew from the trailer. Katayama (Daisuke) only knew anything in the sense that they had him record those few lines for it. So even though it’s been a whole year and a half since Kizuna released to the public, it had only just been decided to make a new movie like this. All of the statements between Kizuna and now stating that there was nothing particularly in the works at the time were completely accurate. Of course, there are obvious hints that they were setting up for this possibility (many, many people noticed the suspiciously favorable position the 02 group was in during Kizuna, and the press releases were carefully worded so that having a movie about “Daisuke and his friends” would allow any statement about Kizuna being “the last adventure of Taichi and his friends” to still be technically truthful), but for all intents and purposes it seems like there had been no actual commitment to making this 02 movie until now, and that they’d at least wanted to gauge the surrounding climate and fanbase reactions for what people were looking for before they decided to go ahead with this.

The obvious reasons as to why this movie exist involve the fact that Daisuke and co. are pretty much the only “out” you can have to continue the Adventure universe without constantly defaulting to Taichi’s group yet again, because at the very least it’d be something that you can’t deny hasn’t exactly had the best representation in recent years. Of course they’re trying to capitalize on this! I’m not going to pretend they aren’t! But producer Kinoshita left a very interesting comment about a particular goal they have with this movie:

This time, the core behind the movie is everyone from 02! Daisuke’s group has their own different kind of charm from Taichi’s, and we want to express that precisely because we’re in the times we’re in right now.

That comment alone has a lot to unpack. (For a frame of reference, Kizuna released in Japan in February 2020; development had already long finished by the time the pandemic first hit, and it was unfortunately one of the first victims of the initial lockdowns because of how bad the timing was.) Acknowledging directly that there’s something different about Daisuke’s group and their dynamic, which makes them especially suited for what we need in “the current times”...hmm, what could that be?

The implied answer is one that many 02 lovers will know very intimately: the 02 group’s particular specialty is in uplifting others and giving each other emotional support. While Adventure had traces of these themes, 02 was the one that went really hard on the themes of dealing with grief and loss, the existential crisis of what to do with oneself in a world placing heavy pressures on you, and how to move on from hardships with the help of others. The fact that the 02 group specializes in this more than anything else is probably one of the most distinguishing factors between them and their seniors, so there’s a very heavy implication here that they understand what distinguishes 02 from Adventure, and what it uniquely would bring to the table in this kind of movie. So this isn’t just “we’re relying on the 02 kids because they’re part of the same universe”; there’s some degree of substantial understanding of what makes 02 as a series unique, and a desire to use this to its fullest extent.

Still don’t believe me? Well, how about this...

This staff really likes 02 a lot

Seki Hiromi, the original producer of Adventure and 02, was involved as a supervisor on Kizuna’s development. Seki was personally involved in the creation of these kids and 02 itself -- she’s the one who noticed the story of the nine-year-old boy skipping grades into Columbia University, the one that formed the basis of 02 itself and eventually came back for Kizuna -- and even personally vetted Kizuna’s script to make sure everyone was in character, gave her thoughts on what the kids would be like in 2010, and was (repeatedly) commented as seeming to love the kids like her own children. As of this writing, it hasn’t been confirmed whether she’s involved on the new movie, but even if she’s not, this means that the staff on Kizuna that is returning all listened closely to those discussions about what the characters are like, straight from the mouth of one of their own creators. The new character song releases had a brief mention in Lounsbery Arthur’s interview that there were apparently extensive discussions with the staff on what the characters should be like at this time, so while Seki’s involvement with that is unknown, at the very least, a lot of conscientious thought seems to be put in at all times into maintaining these characters’ integrity.

Of course, just having an original creator alone on it doesn’t necessarily do it by itself, so here’s another interesting thing: Taguchi Tomohisa, director of both Kizuna and this movie, is also very fond of 02.

I suspect we’ll be hearing more from him as this new movie goes further into development, but Taguchi himself implied that 02 was actually the one he happened to connect with in particular, and when you really think about it, given the circumstances surrounding Kizuna, it’s not actually surprising that a movie trying to be conscientiously aware of 02′s position in the narrative would have someone with a particular fondness for it on its staff. (Reason being: a lot of Adventure fans don’t care much for 02, but you’ll almost never meet a 02 fan who doesn’t also adore Adventure.) The really fun part about this, however, is that Taguchi has repeatedly stated that 02′s first movie, Hurricane Touchdown, is his favorite Digimon movie -- in a climate where everyone else was talking about Adventure. The expected answer for the majority of Adventure fans in terms of “favorite Digimon movie” is almost always Our War Game! by knockout, but no, for Taguchi, it’s Hurricane Touchdown, and not only has he said this, he won’t shut up about it. He’s been saying this since 2019. Even Seki noticed. A whole article got made about this. He brings it up whenever he has a chance to. To top it all off, when a Kizuna event asked everyone present about their favorite characters, and everyone gave Adventure-related answers, Taguchi’s response was instead Terriermon and Daisuke. And I mean, look at Kizuna itself -- its entire plot revolves around having to move on from unhealthy nostalgia, represented by kidnapping people and turning them younger and an antagonist swallowed by their own negative emotions, which, well, is literally the plot of Hurricane Touchdown. (Yeah, that Wallace cameo is very, very likely to be sheer self-indulgence.) And considering that Taguchi said his favorite human character was Daisuke, not Wallace, it means that he understands what Hurricane Touchdown brought out of Daisuke, what his interactions with Wallace meant for both characters, and how Daisuke’s best strengths lie in his ability to support and uplift others.

And, finally, we have Yamatoya, who was responsible for penning both Kizuna’s script (and, thus, being privy to Seki’s corrections) and the bonus drama CD that came with it, on the script, and he personally said that he enjoyed writing for the 02 group because he felt they were important to lightening up the mood of the heavy story Kizuna was becoming. In fact, every comment from this staff about what the 02 group brings to the table in particular has showed a good understanding of what their appeal is -- that they have to be “fun”, that they were “healing in a heavy story”, and Taguchi himself said that he got the impression that the 02 group had more straightforward paths to their epilogue careers (which is interesting, considering that I’ve also personally pointed out that the 02 group seemed to have careers with significantly lower bars than their seniors’ due to their difference in priorities). All of these things are observations you make when you know this group and the importance of the story they came from.

Extend it even further to the rest of the staff members and you’ll find there are a lot of 02 fans on there, including the animation staff, who made some very neat observations about 02 and its finale. Miyahara Takuya is a particularly amusing case, because he seems to love Imperialdramon so much that in the thanks booklet for the deluxe edition for the Blu-ray, he drew a picture of Daisuke and Ken with Imperialdramon Dragon Mode because he didn’t get to be in the movie. (As in, he actually said, point-blank in the caption, that he loves Imperialdramon and wanted to draw him because he wasn’t in the movie.)

Of course, even if you’re trying your best, things may not always work out, so I’m not saying having love for the characters will necessarily guarantee that the product turns out for the best. However, considering that historically a lot of our fears come from the idea of them milking the name value of the characters without really caring about their integrity or understanding what the series was about (especially since a lot of people in the fanbase itself don’t tend to read 02′s nuances very well), I think, at the very least, we don’t need to worry about the staff for this movie not being conscientious, nor the idea that they’re making this movie without understanding or caring about 02.

Furthermore, one thing I appreciate is that they’re actually leading the advertisement with a premise that is distinct from Kizuna’s. Of course, it covers a similar topic of “partnerships”, and it’s very possible it’ll cover the issue of the solution to Kizuna’s problem (especially since the answer was already hinted to have a heavy relationship with 02), but nevertheless, it’s an actual premise that’s not just “Kizuna’s story, but more of it”. It’s an understanding that something 02-related should be allowed to stand on its own rather than just tacking it onto an Adventure-related thing. Beyond that, while I think it’s generally expected that a side story like this should have an original character, I think it’s actually very good this time in particular that there’s a new element/character for the 02 group to interact with; again, as with Hurricane Touchdown and Daisuke, these kids often have the best brought out of them when they’re supporting others, and honestly, because the kids suffered so much in their own narrative, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of seeing them having to go through too much more trauma themselves (it’s a big reason I don’t like the idea of a 02 reboot). So while I’m sure a lot of 02 fans feel a bit antsy that the actual group itself wasn’t advertised first, I actually consider it a positive sign that they have an understanding of what context this group performs best in, and, moreover, well...the last time they unveiled something that was so focused on advertising the return of old characters that it forgot to actually be straightforward about the premise, I don’t think that ended well. So to speak.

In general, the track record is good

It’s easy to just smile and nod at the portrayal of the 02 quartet in Kizuna, because in general everything from them is in-character, but I just want to point out how significant it is that they were portrayed so conscientiously when it is really easy to mess them up. (As I like pointing out very often: even official has not historically been very careful with Daisuke’s character.) There are so many easy pitfalls you could have fallen into and pigeonholed the kids into, but Kizuna absolutely demonstrated the quartet at their best, showing off all the nuances of their character and bringing up all the parts that were most important, especially Daisuke’s best quality being “positivity and cheerfulness” and not all of the other things about him running in circles or having a crush on Hikari-chan. This even goes down to the casting; Katayama Fukujuurou sounds terrifyingly like Kiuchi Reiko in terms of all the little nuances and pitch shifts she had in her performance, and the cast themselves spoke of all the nuances present in their characters as they were studying for their roles. These are things that even fans of the series tend to miss, but the voice actors for the quartet nailed their roles so well that it’s very easy to tell that the direction understood exactly what they were looking for and needed, and casted accordingly. Even those who didn’t care for the movie much had a very hard time disputing the voice casting for the quartet (and this is saying a lot given how much voice actor changes are often a really sore point among Japanese fans).

But while the 02 group had a limited amount of screentime in Kizuna, the staff also had a lot of opportunities to prove themselves with the drama CD and the new character song CDs, and every single aspect of these reflects something that was represented in 02 itself -- again, things that often go over the heads of people who aren’t paying as close attention. The drama CD captures a lot of the essence of the dynamics between the group in only short lines, and all of the statements about the characters in the character song interviews are accurate (and remember: Arthur said directly that there were discussions with the staff about keeping them true to character). On top of that, not only do the lyrics in said songs directly mirror each character’s development from the time of the original Best Partner series, there are also a lot of things in said songs that demonstrate a nuanced understanding of each person’s character and what they got out of the events of 02. Someone with only a surface-level understanding of Ken or Iori’s character might think that Ken should only have a soft song, or that Iori shouldn’t want to do anything ridiculous, but the series goes ahead and gives Ken one of the most passionately emotional rock songs in the batch and Iori outright rap with Armadimon, which are both fitting decisions in light of Ken actually being one of the more emotionally assertive people in this group, and Iori only being stoic because he’s strict with himself and being willing to let loose in certain circumstances (especially after the events of 02).

As of this writing, I don’t know if the new movie is going to be featuring the entire group in a major role, and I’m not sure if I even want it to; as much as I do strongly feel like the group should always work together at all times, one minor personal complaint I had about Kizuna was that it tries to do too much in too little time, and I’m personally fine with this new movie being more Daisuke-centric or something if it means it can just get a nice story on the table (after all, if I wanted something that more evenly represents the entire 02 group, I’d just go back and rewatch a very nice anime series called Digimon Adventure 02). There’s also the very thorny question of what to do about Tokumitsu Yuka, since I don’t personally really like the idea of still dragging her out of retirement like this (but I also wouldn’t want them to awkwardly write around her just for this, and I’m wondering if Sonozaki voicing Tailmon in the reboot would let people accept her as a replacement without much fighting).

Nevertheless, I think Kizuna’s staff has proven more than well enough that they understand the essence of 02 and its characters, so, again, regardless of how it turns out, I at least expect that this can be made with some degree of conscientiousness, and at this point, that’s all I can ask for. I don’t think it’s fair to expect or want this movie to be the second coming of 02, because, again, if we wanted that, I think it’d be better for us to all go back and watch that lovely little 50-episode anime called Digimon Adventure 02. But in terms of being something that can add a little nice thing to the mix, I think, so far, this movie at least has positive signs of turning out that way -- and, remember, think about what I just said about initially being very against this idea; as a diehard 02 fan who has a lot of very picky feelings about how to best represent it, it took a lot for the staff to earn my trust in this sense.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kizuna spoilers

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hello-everyfandom · 3 years

Text

“On my heart, Love.”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: You’re tutoring Peter in Herbology and James loves to distract you.

(Enjoy! A little James Potter heals all wounds)

James Potter was widely known, across the grounds of Hogwarts, to be quite arrogant and rather self-absorbed. In classes he was the student who sat in the back making snarky comments back to the Professor and the student who, along with his friends, were quite mischievous. It seemed that James Potter had quite a large head, being quite popular as well as star Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. So, by the time you were appointed to tutor Peter Pettigrew on Herbology, you were fully aware of the presence of Mr. James Potter. It was quite frequent that Peter’s friends interrupted study sessions and you, sadly, had gotten used to the presence of James’ big head.

“Peter,” you sighed, “You really must focus, and I do not say this as your tutor who wants you to do well, but literally because if you do not study these plants and you could actually die in class.”

Peter, who sat next to you, groaned loudly, “But why!” Peter whined making you snicker.

“Why!!” you mocked him in a childish voice, “Because if you aren’t careful in dissecting and are too busy staring at the butterflies, a Venomous Tentacula will snap it’s jaws at you and well...” you clicked your tongue, “I’m afraid you fresh out of luck then.”

Peter sat up and grinned, “You know what?”

“What?” you responded,

“You may be the cruelest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met.”

“Peter,” you pretended to coo, “that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Peter held his hands up, “I tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”

You snorted, “Yeah, right.”

As the two of you continued to read through the textbook, Peter took notes on exactly what you said. It was peaceful studying until you heard two heavy footsteps marching towards you.

“Wormtail!” Sirius Black emerged. He flopped onto the bench next to Peter and slung his arm around him. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Taking the intellectual advantage of this poor lady, here.” James Potter answered his friend, pulling the chair next to you out abruptly.

“Learning about Venomous Tentacula,” Peter shoved Sirius Black’s hand away from his notes.

“And Remus can’t teach you this hub-bub?” Sirius raised his eyebrow. Peter shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Y/N is the best there is.”

James cocked his head. “Is that so? She’s the best there is in...” he paused to look at the cover of your textbook, “Herbology?”

You were quick in response, “She sure is. And, now that it has been mentioned, she is also quite skilled in the art of jinxes and hexes. Though my word may not be enough to suffice, would you prefer to see an example?”

Your voice was cool but the threat of making James Potter’s fingers into feathers and his nose into a beak was quite prominent. Sirius Black let out a bark of a laugh, holding his chest as he laughed. Peter watched amusedly as his best friend and his tutor (and admittedly also his friend) began to bicker.

“Alright, alright,” James grinned back, “Y/L/N, you’ve won. Don’t unleash your wrath onto poor me.”

“Yes, Y/L/N,” Sirius added, “I’m not sure he could take the humiliation.”

Peter nodded and continued to tease, “His ego is too fragile, like a little teacup.”

“You know what,” James defended, “You’re all pricks, and the only one I respect here is Y/L/N, purely because she knows how to properly articulate an insult.”

“Insult?” you grinned, “You are not worth my time to insult, love. Think of my teasing to be nothing but a mere brain exercise.”

James Potter bit his lip to hold back a smile, “I love nothing more than to be considered a brain exercise of yours.”

Sirius groaned disgustedly, “Alright, enough with the flirting.” He stood and brushed off his trousers dramatically, “Pete, we came to announce that we are going to find the Pixies that Professor Kettleburn keeps locked away and unleash them on some first years.”

Peter immediately looked at you with little begging eyes, “Please! Please Y/N, can I go?”

“We still have to study!” you protested, “Peter, you have an exam on this tomorrow!”

“He’ll be fine!” Sirius pulled Peter up, slinging his arm around him again, “Pete’s been tutored by the best.”

“But-” before you could protest further, Sirius dragged Peter away, ruffling his hair. You sighed loudly and began to clean up the notes and textbooks that littered the table.

“Don’t worry,” James said, leaning to hand you a book, “He’ll be fine.”

You sent him a knowing look, taking the book from his hand and placing it into your bag.“It’ll be on your head if he gets a low mark.”

“I swear on my soul,” James put his hand on his heart, “If he gets a mark lower than Acceptable, I will sit here, myself, and help you tutor him.”

You let out a laugh, “As if.”

“Swear on my heart!” James called as you walked away.

“Then I’ll see you next Thursday,” you waved your hand, not bothering to look back at him. James watched you walk away with a smile breaking his cheeks.

That Thursday, as you expected, Peter approached the study table with James in tow. Both of the marauders held their heads low.

“So, I’m assuming-”

“Your assumption is correct.” James answered solemnly.

“I thought so. James, I assume you will be joining us then?”

“Your assumption is,” he let out a breath of sad air, “correct.”

“Wonderful.” you grinned smugly back.

From then on, James Potter attended your study sessions, never late. At first, he absentmindedly looked around the room, busy enchanting paper cranes to fly and twirling his wand to make soft swirls of colours float around. You hated it. James Potter seemed to distract you, even if he didn’t try. He always came in, smelling of grass and cologne and would always reach up to run his fingers through his hair. Sometimes, he’d crane his neck to see what you were writing or make some witty comment that received a not so subtle eye roll from you.

You didn’t think he cared, not truly, and your blind prejudice made you begin to think James was only there because his ego would be bruised if he backed down from a promise. It was when James began to fly cranes too close to your face for your liking did you blow up.

“You know what.” you stood up, “If you are going to be a prick and distract poor Peter from his studies then you may as well not be here. No one is gaining anything by your presence,” you said rather harshly.

You turned quickly to go to the bathroom in order to cool off. As you rubbed some water on your face, you began to feel the guilt ride up your neck. You didn’t mean to talk so grating to Potter, you were just having a rough day with your own studies and your own academic life.

You paced back slowly to your study table feeling sorrowful and thinking of how you’d apologize to Potter. As you approached, you saw James with his arm slung over Peter. Squinting closer and making your steps quieter you could hear their hushed whispers.

“I’m going to fail,” Peter cried pathetically, his head was buried in his arms “I can’t do it, even with a tutor I am absolutely failing this god forsaken class. Maybe I should just drop out now.”

James clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Don’t say that, Worm. You’re not doing terribly, it will just take a few moments for it to truly click.”

“But you and Remus and Sirius are all doing better-”

“Sirius has skipped at least half of his classes this year and Remus has pulled out half his hair trying to study for O.W.L.S. Really, Worm,” James said seriously, “You’re doing better than any of us combined.”

“But-”

“Wouldn’t lie to you,” James patted his back encouragingly, “Besides, Herbology is one of the hardest courses for our year.”

“Really?” Peter asked, raising his head to look at his friend.

“Really really. Now clean yourself up, don’t want Y/L/N to see you in such a state. Why don’t you go grab a snack from the kitchens?”

Peter agreed, noting that a cookie may make himself feel better, and rose to recollect himself on the way to the kitchen. He didn’t see you in the shadows, looking in surprise at both Peter and James. You had no idea Peter had thought so harshly of himself, in fact, he was steadily improving in his studies. You hugged your arms and walked towards James who was leaning backwards in his chair. He straightened up when he saw you and cleared his throat.

“You’re looking refreshed.” he commented, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

You paused before saying, “Thank you.”

“Listen-”

“Listen-” the two of you said at the same time. You both looked at each other, unable to keep a smile off of your faces. Yours was small, shy even whilst his was large and cheeky.

“You go first,” he waved his hand.

“I wanted to apologize,” you whispered lowly, fiddling with your nails, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I thought... well I thought-”

“Thought I was a prick?”

“Precisely,” the two of you laughed together.

“But, seriously, I am sorry,” you acknowledged seriously.

“I am too,” James answered back, “I know it has been... less than pleasant with me being around your study dates.”

“Study period,” you corrected.

“Whatever it’s called. The truth is...” James looked around to see if Peter had miraculously appeared and let out a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair in a stressed manner, “The truth is... Peter is a little bit embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” you asked incredulously.

“He feels as though he isn’t doing as well as he should... and I... well, I attend your study sessions to cheer him up a bit.”

“Oh.” you mumbled.

“And, I-” James seemed to struggle a bit trying to find his word, “I suppose I try and distract you so Peter doesn’t feel like all the attention is on him.”

“Oh.”

It grew quiet between you two. James stared at you, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You bit your cheek, wondering what you could say.

“But-”

“But?” you interrupted.

“But... that doesn’t mean... I don’t want to come.”

“Oh?” your voiced curiously.

“I mean,” he laughed, almost a little embarrassedly, “I guess I come for Peter, but I also come... for you?” he trailed off quieter and quieter, blushing a bit.

“For me?”

James glanced at you. He saw your smile, one he had grown to love. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all you can say? ‘Oh’?” James mocked lightly. You shoved his arm and he acted as if he were being punched. “Do I render you speechless?” James’ eyebrows wiggled.

“Wow,” you whistled, “Just as you were beginning to warm my heart, you decided to go and be a prick again.” you teased back.

“No no!” James exclaimed, “I can go back to being cute.” The two of you smiled at each other, no longer feeling the awkwardness in the air.

“James Potter,” you observed slowly, “you’re a good friend.”

He began to flush, his ears went red and he waved his hand, “What are mates for?”

“I guess you’re right,”

“Does that mean you’ll let me stay for study sessions?”

You pretended to think, tapping a finger on your lips, “I suppose so.” James cheered loudly. Your eyes widened at his cheer and quickly shushed him.

“And then maybe... we can-”

“Can what?”

“Meet... for something other than studying?” James Potter, the boy who was charming and confident grew nervous waiting for your reply.

“We’ll see.” you finally answered, making James let out an exhale of relief. “But only if Peter gets higher than Acceptable on his essay.”

James leaned in close to you, “On my heart, Love.”

And yes, with much studying and preparation from both you and James, Peter received an O.

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfic #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #marauders #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #marauders fic

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metvmorqhoses · 3 years

Note

i have a headcannon that voldemort never really “punishes” bella when she does something wrong, but his punishments to other death eaters are way way worse & so she’s obligated to act as if vold has given her a worse punishment than he actually has. not that she does a lot of things wrong as his “most faithful” though. i’m talking about the occasional slip up like the department of mysteries thing. had that been someone else, he probably would’ve harmed them more, let alone wouldn’t save then from some witch statue holding them down.

this is very true, anon. so true, in fact, i actually consider this much more a canon fact than mere speculation.

sorry if this is very long, but for every thousand of anti-bellamort idiots there must be a very precise bellamort’s defense attorney lol

correct me if i am wrong, but to my knowledge not once in the books a physical punishment coming from voldemort is ever mentioned in relation to bellatrix - and even if, let's be real, after his "rebirth" she became involved in literally the majority of the most crucial errors, the worst happenings ever, that ultimately brought to no less than his very downfall.

and yet, still, she came out of it all not only unscathed, but treated very specially.

even to a lazy reader, this should at least come across as peculiar.

let’s take the primary example of what i am saying, the battle of the department of mysteries.

just freed from azkaban and after being showered in honors and recognition, the first pivotal mission bellatrix was entrusted with was a damning fiasco.

true, it was not entirely her fault, lucius was in fact “in charge” of it, but let’s be real, do you really think voldemort sent his literal general with that malfoy dandy, his pupil, his most trusted and powerful lieutenant, just for company? just as a henchman? as i have always interpreted it, bellatrix was there to keep an eye on lucius, whose silver tongue was famously more apt to political plotting than to field missions.

voldemort wasn’t trusting lucius with the prophecy that had literally already meant almost death to him once, it would have been madness to. you can say anything about voldemort, but certainly not that he was an idiot.

i actually don’t think he ever trusted lucius at all. lucius had renounced him after his fall and didn’t manage to paint the fact as pragmatically as snape did, the cowardly aftertaste of his betrayal blatant and thoroughly disgusting on voldemort’s tongue. lucius’ status, family name, relations and wealth were just very useful for the movement and likely the only things that kept him in the high ranks of the regime (or alive at all) even before the fiasco, along with his marriage to bellatrix’s sister.

i am positive voldemort was in fact trusting bella to see the prophecy retrieved.

he probably didn’t officially put her in charge because she was still recovering from azkaban and therefore not completely stable or/and already with child (even if i tend to exclude the latter option, since she would have been still entirely too weak for a pregnancy to even take).

still, she was the one with the highest military rank there, not to mention the highest degree of closeness to voldemort, so you can bet she was the one that bore also the highest degree of moral obligation in that delicate situation. and she failed.

knowing voldemort, you would have expected to see killing curses flying left and right. had bellatrix been literally anyone else, she could have easily returned home to a murdered family and a pending death penalty.

instead, you see a voldemort that walks into the ministry of magic. you see a voldemort that, even already knowing the prophecy lost forever, renounces his every advantage and reveals himself once again to the wizarding world, moreover having to fight at the same time his very nemesis (nemesis that the mission should have helped him understand better and therefore defeat), dumbledore (the greatest wizard alive besides him) and soon the entirety of the aurors of britain.

what was exactly the reason that compelled him to enter such a nest of vipers, when he had been unwilling to do so in secrecy and surely in a highest degree of safety before and to retrieve the prophecy himself? to kill harry potter?

the very reason of the mission tells us he wasn’t sure about what to do with his potter dilemma and had therefore decided to have a more cautious, academical approach regarding the matter. he wanted to know the whole prophecy before trying again. he was frustrated and puzzled about harry’s absurd invincibility and insolent luck. do you really think he had decided to go for the hardest battle of his life unprepared and with dumbledore present of all people (whom he didn’t even directly kill afterwards) and possibly hundreds more on the way?

had voldemort suddenly turned from cold strategist to hotheaded kamikaze?

the only plausible answer is that voldemort had purposefully entered the ministry, risking capture and possibly his very life (or at least his newly created body, since at this point the horcruxes are still intact and a secret) and not knowing what exactly was there waiting for him, as a rather valiant rescue attempt and quite an unexpected one too.

bellatrix herself just moments before had laughed at the absurdity of the possibility of voldemort ever entering the place in response to harry’s questioning:

“Get it himself?” shrieked Bellatrix on a cackle of mad laughter. “The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?”

bellatrix herself believed it an impossible and ludicrous thought and yet, less than half an hour later and her life in jeopardy, there voldemort surely appeared.

you could speculate he wanted to save his most valuable, just freed death eaters and then couldn’t, but there’s no evidence of it in the chapter whatsoever. the only evidence points out to the fact he was focused only on saving bellatrix.

this is in fact what lucius tells his hunting party while harry and co are trying to escape the ambush:

Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: “Leave Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott’s injuries as much as losing that prophecy — Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We’ll split into pairs and search, and don’t forget, be gentle with Potter until we’ve got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary — Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right — Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead — Macnair and Avery, through here — Rookwood, over there — Mulciber, come with me!”

so, la crème de la crème of his high ranks is there and everyone is positive the only thing that voldemort would care about is the prophecy, even above captures and fatalities.

rabastan and rodolphus are also there and yet he doesn’t go for them.

he appeared when harry told bellatrix the prophecy was gone, specifically when bellatrix began to have a manic fit because of it, alone in the ministry’s atrium with harry.

“Potter, I am going to give you one chance!” shouted Bellatrix. “Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!”

“Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!” Harry roared — and as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage.

“And he knows!” said Harry with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix’s own. “Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?”

“What? What do you mean?” she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice.

“The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort’ll say about that, then?”

His scar seared and burned. . . . The pain of it was making his eyes stream. . . .

“LIAR!” she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. “YOU’VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME — Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY !”

Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him. “Nothing there!” he shouted. “Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that —”

“No!” she screamed. “It isn’t true, you’re lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”

“Don’t waste your breath!” yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever.

“He can’t hear you from here!”

“Can’t I, Potter?” said a high, cold voice.

specifically, he appears behind bella when she starts to maniacally invoke him, almost as if they had a special mean of communication with each other even from considerable distance.

(here bella is afraid voldemort would punish her and i find the manner of it very interesting, we will come back to it later on)

voldemort was obviously furious the prophecy was lost, but again why risking his own life on top of it? was he perhaps concerned of bella’s mental state now that she knew she had failed and therefore her ability to flee/fight his very nemesis, dumbledore and the aurors?

normally, we would have expected voldemort to stay away and deal with the surviving death eaters later, leaving them to their deserved destiny (as he did with literally everyone else who was there).

instead we have:

“So you smashed my prophecy?” said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. “No, Bella, he is not lying. . . . I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. . . . Months of preparation, months of effort . . . and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again. . . .”

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer.

“Master, you should know —”

“Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?”

“But Master — he is here — he is below —”

Voldemort paid no attention.

“I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,” he said quietly. “You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!”

even when she literally has just lost his one mean to achieve his every goal of a lifetime, she is “bella”. even when we would expect him to tear her to pieces then and there, he had come to stand between her and harry.

the only reprimand she receives is a scowling “be quiet bella, i shall deal with you in a moment”, as you would speak in public with someone who is very close to you and you are very mad at, who shouldn’t let that closeness slip in public, especially now that she’s making you risk a lot to save her sorry ass.

i find this scene very comic, on top of everything else. voldemort is clearly so done and yet there he is, come to save his sobbing mess nevertheless.

the scene proceeds with dumbledore’s arrival, the duel and bellatrix trapped under the statue. during the duel and just after having trapped bella, we see a really curious exchange:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,”

Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks.

(...)

"Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —”

what is this fate “worse than death”, these “other ways to destroy a man” that dumbledore wants for voldemort? we know how it all ended - with voldemort’s literal death, his very disintegration (after bellatrix’s very own). what was this all about then? this one i’ll let you decide for yourself. it’s certainly peculiar, considered the context.

voldemort doesn’t respond to this, he in fact seems very provoked and sends a killing curse at him.

at the end of the duel he disappears and everyone thinks he fled, bellatrix included, who cries out his name sobbing from under the statue.

he in fact, at that, goes straight to possess harry.

And then Harry’s scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance —

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape — And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .

“Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .” Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .

“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .”

Let the pain stop, thought Harry.

Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . .

And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been (...)

“...where’s Voldemort, where — who are all these — what’s —”

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald- green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards was emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward.

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!”

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!”

this passage is ever so interesting to me, because dumbledore’s words appear to have somehow made voldemort “emotional”. they provoked him somehow. he didn’t laugh at them. he linked them to the worst pain imaginable and almost killed harry with it, posing a philosophical dilemma - if such pain is worse than death, if my life is worse than death, why don’t you put this boy out of his misery?

there’s no doubt in my mind “that pain” is voldemort’s pain. a pain intrinsically love-related. voldemort’s problems to accept/understand/feel love are the crux of the saga, his every villainy and pain. it’s so interesting that in this whole scene the train of events and thought have ultimately reached this topic (even in the movie love is mentioned here, harry literally fights the possession telling him he shall never have it).

voldemort was furious with bellatrix, feared for his plans and life and went to save her anyway. he is enraged beyond belief but puts himself between her and harry and dumbledore. while they duel, dumbledore traps bellatrix and lectures him about “other ways to destroy a man” and “worse things than death”. he absolutely hits a nerve. voldemort completely feels what he’s meaning, so much he wants to retaliate and mercilessly - he never wants to be forced to face such things, such emotions. i don’t think he’s trying to kill harry there, he’s trying to prove a point, to make them both understand how it feels to be him, how the whole concept of love feels to him. and the matter is addressed in a scene entirely built around bellatrix. in fact, finally he then grabs her, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves, and flees. he effectively saves her and her only.

to me this whole passage is directly linked to the famous scream at bellatrix’s death, and to the way the events leading to voldemort’s own death unfolded. that scream might very well be that “fate worse than death”. jkr loves parallels and to me this one is perhaps the most beautiful of the series.

this really proves, in my opinion, at what depth their relationship stands, absurdly perhaps much more abysmal on voldemort’s part than on bella’s.

anyways, i took the time to analyze this particular episode because it’s emblematic of their relationship and his way to deal with her disasters.

lucius would carry on his face the signs of this fiasco literally for the rest of the entire series. the malfoys would fall from grace because of it, probably alive only because of bella’s intercession. half of the death eaters who were present at the ministry would end up back in azkaban.

voldemort would end up defeated, furious and destined to die.

bellatrix would come out of it not only physically unscathed, but with voldemort’s child.

even when she again loses the trio at malfoy’s manor (along with the sword), everyone ends up physically tortured but her. she says she fears for her life if voldemort was to know she lost the sword, but it seems more a metaphor than an actual possibility. when the cup is stolen from her vault, he makes her leave the room before murdering everyone in it. she’s not present at dumbledore’s assasination, and that’s because she wasn’t disposable.

i don’t think physical punishments are involved in their relationship, or if they are they are very rare, and i don’t think voldemort’s reactions to her transgressions/wrongdoings are in tune with the way he reacts to everyone else’s.

bella can more than anyone with him and never really loses this status of utter closeness, no matter what she does.

this obviously doesn’t mean that voldemort is a saint with her or that he doesn’t occasionally punish her. this doesn’t mean she isn’t rightfully afraid of him.

yet, the main way i see him actually hurting bella is psychological torture and silent treatment.

and here we come back at what bella was sobbing at the ministry, her desperate “MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”.

i don’t think a warrior, a general, a woman who remarkably survived 14 years at azkaban, would ever react this way to the mere fear of physical punishment, no matter how cruciatus curses hurt. i think she would have taken it as stoically as possible. thought she deserved it, even.

no, voldemort’s punishments must be unbearable to her, impossible to even fathom, because they involve falling from his graces, from the closeness she lives for. voldemort can serve bellatrix the cold, silent, disappointed treatment of a mentor and a lover, and have bellatrix literally rotting away because of it.

this is truly the worst thing he can do to her and the thing that had her sobbing and having a fit before harry at the mere idea of it.

this is also somehow confirmed when hermione, transformed in bellatrix, meets a death eater (i don’t remember who he was) before entering the gringott. he wasn’t surprised to see bella, well, alive and physically well, he was surprised to see her out of malfoy manor, where she was supposed to be confined.

so yes, definitely the way voldemort deals with bellatrix regarding punishments is special. everything regarding his way of treating bellatrix is, to be honest.

their relationship is written in such a subtle, beautifully twisted way. i adore it. the only problem is that because of it virtually no one ever connects the dots.

#i'm sorry for yet another essay #it just... happened lol #bellamort is based on hints and symbols so here i am in the dead of night psychoanalysing my client to the bone lol #bellamort #lord voldemort #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #asks/replies #hp #one and one thousand stories lis told #anon

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melzula · 4 years

Text

Obstacles

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

requests: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb where Zuko struggles with how to approach being around Princess Reader when she avoids him and/or gives him the silent treatment? // Hi- I was wondering if you could write a fire lillies blurb where, when the gaang first starts interacts with zuko, they are more protective of the reader. Simply because they know the history between the two.

a/n: the format of this is a little different than how I normally write but I think it works :)

Though Zuko had finally become a part of Team Avatar, he still found himself to be the odd one out of the group. From Katara’s cold glare to Sokka’s reluctance of being left alone with the prince, Zuko struggled to find his place amongst the group. It was odd and new and strange, but at least it was a start in the right direction, and his first step included mending things with the Princess. He had gotten her to fall in love with him once, so it couldn’t be that hard to do it again, right?

In truth, it was very hard. Zuko faced many obstacles and many set backs, and it would probably be some time before she even so much as looked at him, let alone forgave him...

~~~

Katara

Zuko watched from afar as the Princess handled her chores for the day, sitting peacefully by the fountain as she washed the clothes. Her movements were delicate but precise, the water flowing smoothly through the dirt and the grime collected on Toph’s green robes, and a faint smile graced her features as she hummed softly through the work. She was at peace and completely relaxed, more relaxed than Zuko had ever seen y/n in years. Even in Ba Sing Se there had always been a nervous edge to her, an edge she did her best to hide from Zuko, and she had almost been completely rid of it until the caves. He cringed at the thought, guilt overcoming him at the fact that she seemed so much better off without him.

“What are you doing?” Katara scowls accusingly, startling the Prince from his silent watch over y/n.

“I-“

“Y/N’s been really happy ever since she left you, and you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you ruin that for her,” the water bender scolds harshly.

“I just want to apologize to her,” Zuko replies calmly, but Katara isn’t having it.

“A simple apology is never going to fix all the ways you’ve hurt her. Y/n deserves better, and if I ever see you make her upset or uncomfortable I won’t hesitate to step in.”

Zuko says nothing as Katara stalks away, he knows better than to get in her way when she’s angry, and when her retreating form finally disappears he looks back at the fountain.

The clothes have been washed, and the Princess is gone.

~~~

Sokka

The smell of stew was heavenly to Zuko’s rumbling tummy, and he was eager to join everyone by the fireside. Bowls had been served, seats had been chosen, and an empty spot beside the Princess was his for the taking.

“Excuse me, buddy,” Sokka chirps, patting Zuko heartily on the back before quickly sitting himself beside y/n. She smiles softly at the water tribe boy and offers him her leftovers to which he happily accepts.

Zuko deflates, choosing to sit next to Aang and enjoy his stew of failure. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last. He knew Sokka was just protecting her, and he couldn’t be mad at him for that. Sokka had probably done more for y/n in her time with him than Zuko had ever done, who was he to blame his protectiveness?

Y/n offers to take the empty dishes to wash, and as Zuko attempts to follow after her his path is quickly blocked by Sokka.

“Listen, I know you’re trying to make things right, and while I respect that, y/n’s asked me to keep you away from her,” he explains as gently as he can. “It’s nothing personal, but I care about her and I want to make sure she feels comfortable.”

“Oh... I understand,” Zuko utters quietly. “Will you at least tell her that I love her?”

“...I’ll do my best,” Sokka replies solemnly, watching with a pang of guilt as Zuko retreats to his room for the night.

~~~

Aang

“What am I supposed to do?” Zuko groans whilst tugging at his hair.

“You know I’m a firm believer in peace, and I do think that neither of you will be happy until your issues are resolved,” Aang comments wisely. “But I also think you should never force anything. Y/n will come around in her own time when she’s ready.”

“But that could take forever!” He protests. “I’ve already been away from her long enough, and being near her but not being able to speak to her is torture.”

Both boys turn their gazes towards y/n in the distance where she carefully brush Appa’s hair and talk to him about his day. The sight is very Princess like, which is fitting since she is a Princess after all, but the sweetness of it all makes Zuko’s heart ache with longing.

“What you did wasn’t right,” Aang sighs. “And she’s still healing. But, if she truly couldn’t stand you then she wouldn’t have given her blessing to let you stay.”

“She only let me stay so I could train you,” Zuko argues.

“Okay, that’s true. But she also washes your clothes, serves you dinner, and just the other day I saw her mending a hole in your boot. She won’t talk to you, but she does still care.”

“She’s always had such a big heart,” he murmurs dejectedly. “Back when I was still hunting you y/n always went out of her way to take care of me even if I didn’t want it. I was a fool to take her for granted.”

“I really do think you guys will work it out. Just don’t force anything, and you’ll be fine,” Aang comforts, and the two continue to watch the Princess as she tends to Appa.

~~~

Toph

With a bouquet of wild flowers in hand and his hair combed in that same horrid style his Uncle had given him back in Ba Sing Se, Zuko headed to her room in hopes of finally talking to the Princess. He knew how much y/n loved flowers, and he also knew how much she loved that ridiculously dorky hairstyle, so he hoped that the two combined together would at least earn him a smile in return.

But when he arrived to her part of the temple he found that her door was barricaded with a smooth slab of rock, and sitting a few feet away from said rock was Toph. The little girl sat leaning against the wall, legs crossed over each other and hands folded behind her head.

“Sorry, sparky, boss’s orders,” she explains with a small shrug, and Zuko deflates. “Personally I think she just needs to man up and face you, but until then I’ve been put under strict orders not to let you in.”

“She really hates me, doesn’t she?” Zuko sighs, joining Toph against the wall. The flowers in his hand are beginning to droop from the lack of water, much like his demeanor from his lack of y/n.

“No, but she’s very angry,” Toph corrects. “Really sad, too. Sokka’s already been in there three times tonight.”

“Are they...?”

“Together? He wishes,” the girl scoffs. “His heartbeat picks up a beat or two sometimes when he’s with her, but he’d never make a move on her. Not when she’s so upset and he’s the only one she can talk to.”

“Yeah, well maybe they should be together,” Zuko grumbles, the flower stems charring in his hands from the sudden heat that emits from his palms. “They’re both water tribe and he obviously takes care of her better than I ever could.”

“That’s true,” Toph nods much to Zuko’s dismay. “But she doesn’t love Sokka. She loves you.”

“Loved,” Zuko corrects only for Toph to roll her eyes.

“You dunderhead,” she mutters before punching him in the shoulder. “I should just knock your heads together and make you kiss and make up right now.”

“Can you do that?” Zuko asks hopefully only to receive another punch from Toph.

“You sure do have a lot to learn, sparky.”

~~~

The Princess

The morning is quiet and calm as you rise with the sun, heading out to collect the dew on the plants of the temple so that you may use it as water for your group. Other than Momo, who sits comfortably on your shoulders, everyone is asleep, giving you some time to decompress and enjoy the solitude of the rising sun.

“Anything I can help with?”

Or so you thought. Of course Zuko would approach you now when there was no one to keep him away from you. You say nothing in response, refusing to even look at him as you set down your bucket and begin to remove the dew from the leaves.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs. “Let me make it better.”

Zuko is met with silence and an eye roll. Momo chitters curiously at the Princess, receiving a head scratch in return which is more than Zuko can say.

“I never stopped thinking of you,” he says. “And I wish I could take back everything I’ve done to hurt you.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” you utter quietly. “I want you to go away.”

Hearing your voice after being met with silence for so long brings the boy to tears, and with a hesitant demeanor Zuko reaches out for you. However, at the sight of the water glowing your palms the Prince takes a step back. You’re not afraid to turn your bending on him, not anymore, and it isn’t until now that he realizes he really has hurt you, more than he could ever have imagined.

“Y/n...”

“Go. Don’t make me ask again.”

With a defeated sigh Zuko turns away and leaves the Princess to her own devices. She goes back to tending to the dew, and the Prince goes back to his room to wallow in his shame.

Both have tears streaming down their faces.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @eridanuswave @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #sokka #toph #katara #aang #team avatar #gaang x reader #fire lilies

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years

Text

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 4

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

Other Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 Epilogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian felt as though he were swimming up from the bottom of the ocean. Everything was dark and still, the sounds around him muffled, as though he were hearing them through the water. And then suddenly the water cleared and he pushed through the surface.

The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was her face, her beautiful radiant face looking down on him with hope and perhaps a bit of trepidation.

"Swan, at last!" he whispered past a throat as dry as sandpaper.

How he knew her name he had no idea, but know it he did, just as he had the strangest feeling he knew her--had communicated with her, had a connection with her.

Given the standoffish way she'd treated their one previous encounter, he expected her to pull away, to become defensive at his familiar use of her name, but she surprised him. Instead of shying away, she smiled at him, let her hand linger on his cheek a moment longer and simply said, "Welcome back."

A nurse came in at that moment, and Killian looked around in surprise. For the first time, he realized he was in a hospital.

"What--" he croaked before taking a sip of water the nurse brought him. "What happened?"

"We were rather hoping you could tell us that," replied a handsome black man who stood at a discreet distance.

"Killian, I'd like you to meet Merlin Emrys," Emma said. "It's thanks to him we were able to find you."

Killian held out his hand, and shook Merlin's. "You have my thanks."

"You're most welcome," Merlin said with a smile, "but I assure you I was only a small part of the puzzle. You owe your waking to Miss Swan here--to her and to the connection you share."

It was odd, Killian thought, that neither he nor Emma had introduced themselves to each other; it was even more odd that it felt as though such an introduction would be redundant. What had happened to them to make them feel as though they'd known each other for decades?

Soulmates, a small voice inside of him insisted.

"You have my deepest gratitude," Killian said, looking around at the two people with him, "both of you."

Emma took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Do you remember anything about...whatever it was that brought you here?"

Killian thought intently for a moment, closing his eyes to help himself concentrate. "I remember…" He looked up at Emma. "I remember you, love. I remember running into you, quite literally, and then I came across a scuffle in an alley. I tried to intervene and was struck from behind, and then...nothing."

"Killian," Emma said gently, "that was half a year ago. You were declared dead, and your family interred you in the family mausoleum. Do you know how that could have happened?"

Killian shook his head. "I have no idea, love. It is a mystery--"

Suddenly the flower vase on the bedside table crashed to the floor, making Killian jump.

"What the hell?!" Emma exclaimed.

It was me!

Killian jumped in the bed. He��d heard the voice as clearly as he’d heard Emma’s exclamation, but the voice wasn’t in the room; it was in his head.

“Did you….did you hear that?” he asked, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said. She looked as disconcerted as he felt. “Merlin? What’s happening?”

Killian turned to look at the other man in the room, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. His attention was focused near the nightstand and the shattered vase. For a moment, he merely stared intently, and then he nodded, as though acknowledging someone--or something--neither Killian nor Emma could see.

“Emma,” Merlin said, finally turning back toward the bed, “do you remember when you first came to me, I sensed another spirit with us? An angry and quite desperate one?”

Emma furrowed her brows. “Um...yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“He’s with us now,” Merlin said. “He’s the voice you heard, and he’s responsible for the broken vase.”

“Okay…”

“Killian,” Merlin said, “his name is Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. He says he made a terrible decision. He borrowed a good deal of money from the mobster known as Hades. The business venture he’d gambled the money on fell through, and to put it mildly, Hades was not pleased.”

“Clearly things went rather badly for him after that if he’s a ghost,” Killian said slowly, “but I’m afraid I don’t follow. What does this Arthur Pendragon have to do with any of us?”

It was me!!

This time the shout in his head was so loud it was nearly deafening. Killian scowled, glaring in the general direction of the nightstand where he assumed the spirit was standing--or whatever it is that spirits do when they’re haunting the living.

“Seems like someone’s impatient,” Emma said dryly. “Merlin, how about you stop with the vagueness and just spit it out. Who is -or I guess who was- Arthur, and why does he insist on yelling at us?”

“Arthur Pendragon is haunting you both because he was the man in the alley, the man you tried to save, Killian.”

Killian blew out a long breath. “Clearly my attempts were fruitless.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, you weren’t able to save his life, but he’s here for a reason. Maybe you can help him now, help him move on, help him find peace.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m at his disposal,” Killian said, “but why the bloody hell does he keep repeating ‘it was me’?”

Merlin turned toward the nightstand and listened for another moment, and then he turned back to the bed, smiling.

“It would seem Arthur Pendragon is the solution to the mystery you face,” Merlin said. “It was Arthur’s body the authorities found in the alley. Your phone, Killian, was found beside him. Given the fact that he was beaten until he was unrecognizable, and given the fact that he bore a rather uncanny resemblance to you in life, it was believed he was you. It was his body that was shipped back to England.”

Emma whistled. “That’s quite the mistake.”

“Indeed,” Merlin agreed.

“So, how can we help him?” Killian asked. “How can we move him toward the light?”

“Arthur wishes his body to be returned back home,” Merlin said, “and he wishes a message be conveyed to his widow, Guinevere.”

“I can manage that,” Killian said. “What precisely is the message?”

“Arthur wishes to tell Gwen, as he calls her, that he’s sorry,” Merlin said. “He knows his obsession wounded his wife deeply, and he wishes more than anything that he’d been a better husband to her. He wants to thank her for her constant love and faithfulness, even when he was not worthy of it, but now she should follow her heart with his blessing. Lance du Lac is a good man, and Arthur hopes they are happy together.”

“I promise you, Arthur,” Emma said, taking Killian’s hand, “I’ll find your wife, and I’ll pass on your message.”

Killian felt a whoosh of coldness pass him, and then it was gone. Suddenly the room felt warmer, lighter.

Emptier.

“He’s moved on,” Merlin said. “Thanks to the both of you, a man who was very troubled--both in life and in death--was able to find peace.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

3 days later

Emma knocked softly on the doorframe, and then stepped inside Killian’s hospital room. He looked up from his seat in the plush chair in the corner, and his entire face lit up at the sight of her.

It made the butterflies dance in her stomach. He was gorgeous when he smiled like that, and she had to admit, the dark-wash jeans, blue button-up and black leather jacket didn’t hurt either. Lying in the bed in a hospital gown he was easy on the eyes, but up and dressed--woah!

His delighted grin turned knowing, and Emma felt her face flame. She was quite sure she hadn’t been this ridiculously attracted to someone since...well, she wasn’t sure it’d ever been like this.

“Looks like someone’s eager to get out of the hospital,” Emma said.

“Aye,” Killian agreed with a nod. “I believe I’ve spent more than enough time in this small room. I’m eager to make the most of my last day in the States.”

After waking from the coma and learning the truth of what happened to him, Killian had made an immediate call to his brother, Liam, paying no mind to the time difference that made it the middle of the night in England.

“Brother?” Killian said as soon as the call connected. “Are you sitting down?”

Emma had gotten up to leave then, not wanting to intrude on a private family moment, but Killian stopped her, squeezing her hand and begging her with his expressive eyes to stay.

Liam had offered to jump on the next plane to the States, but Killian had refused. “It’s been six months, Liam,” he’d said. “If my calculations are correct, my small niece or nephew is to be born any day. Elsa needs you now more than I do.”

Killian listened for a moment before grinning at Emma and rolling his eyes. “Stop fussing, Liam,” he murmured affectionately. “I’m not a lad anymore. I can manage alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Emma said with conviction. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

And she had. She’d spent every free moment here with him at the hospital over the ensuing three days until the doctor had agreed to release him. Emma had long since stopped wondering about the connection she felt to Killian, had stopped fighting against the pull she felt toward him. Whatever odd twist of fate had brought the two of them together, together they were, and Emma found she had no desire to fight against the warmth and happiness being with him brought.

But now, well now, it was all about to come to an end. Killian’s flight was first thing in the morning, and afterward, there would be an entire ocean between them.

Emma’s heart plummeted. There were far too many obstacles for a “relationship”--or whatever you’d call what they had--that had lasted all of a week. She didn’t even know if he felt the same way about her that she did about him. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d have to say goodbye to the man who had somehow managed to burrow his way into her heart, and for all she knew that goodbye would be permanent.

“The doctor should be here any minute for a last check, and then you’re out of here,” Emma said, forcing the dismal thoughts from her mind. Killian being released from the hospital was a good thing. She wasn’t going to ruin the moment by being glum.

“I must admit, I’ll be pleased to be rid of this place,” Killian said with a wry grin. “How the devil is one expected to convalesce and get his rest when the nurses come to poke and prod every five minutes?”

Emma laughed. “Quit complaining,” she said. “You know you had all the nurses eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“They seem to have adopted me as their pet over the past few months, haven’t they? Even if the brigands who attacked me rather knocked the handsome out of me.”

Emma grinned. “No one’s that powerful.”

He enjoyed her flirting, if his pleased grin was any indication. After a moment, he sobered. “I want to thank you, Swan, for saving me, pulling me from the coma.”

She smiled gently. “Did you really think I’d let you waste away in here if I could help it?”

“I’d hardly blame you if you did,” he answered. “After all, we were strangers. Not one person in a hundred who received a phone call from a dead man would put in half the effort you did to track it down.”

Emma shrugged. “It was weird. I had the strangest feeling of connection to you, even though as far as I knew at the time, I’d never even seen you before. No way I could have just let you languish here.”

The doctor came in at that moment, and their conversation was put on hold as he did his final examination before declaring Killian fit to go about his normal life.

“So, I went ahead and booked you a room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast,” Emma said when they were once again at home. “Granny put you in the same room you’d been in during your vacation, before, you know, everything happened.”

“I greatly appreciate it, love.”

“I guess, um,” she said, “we should go. I’ll drop you off and let you enjoy your last day in Storybrooke however you’d like.”

Emma turned to leave the room, but Killian stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Do you know how I’d most like to spend my last day in the States?”

She shook her head.

“I’d like to spend it with you,” he said with a gentle smile. “Would you allow me to buy you lunch?”

Her heart pounded. “Are you...are you asking me out?”

He nodded, taking her hand and lacing their fingers. “If you’re amenable, aye, I’m absolutely asking you out. What do you say?”

Emma stepped into his space, cupped the back of his head with her free hand, and brought his lips down to hers. If he was surprised at the kiss, he didn’t show it, responding as soon as her lips touched his.

And gods did he know how to kiss. Emma was more than tempted to scrap their lunch date and simply stay here making out all day. Food was overrated compared to this.

“Alright, Mr. Jones, you’re good to--oh, I’m sorry! Let me just leave this with you--”

Emma pulled away, grinning as the embarrassed nurse laid a handful of forms on the bedside table and then scurried out the door.

“That was a yes, by the way,” Emma said when they were again alone. “How about we go get that lunch you promised me before we scandalize any more nurses?”

Notes:

--Well there you have it! Mystery solved and happy endings all around.

--All that’s left is a fluffy epilogue in which a few surprise guests show up at an important event in Emma and Killian’s lives.

Next Chapter-->

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ghost story au #(although not really a ghost story)#my fanfiction #dead man's cell phone

49 notes · View notes

xxsmokeyy · 4 years

Text

Levi x Drug Dealer! Reader (F) The Lunatic And Her Dog

genre: smut, canonverse — Levi’s early recruitment

summary: being a former thug, the new soldier is given a task to ingratiate himself, finding an old associate from his past along the way.

tw: vices (drugs, cigarettes), rough sex

wc: 12,039 holy fuck (smut is only latter half)

“Coderoin. A strong, sweet, and highly addictive drug that’s been circulating in Stohess District for about four years or so,” the Commander says, voice gruff as he explains the content of the unwrapped paper filled with azure tablets.

Coderoin. Levi thinks he’s heard of that thing not long before. He just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“The Military Police Brigade failed to capture the primary smuggler of this substance multiple times, and it’s only recently come to their notice that it’s gotten reformulated to a liquid solution,” he continues, pinching one of them in his fingers, rolling it back and forth to study its appearance.

Levi can only stand back in ennui, the lack of interest reverberating from his aura. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information?

Erwin places the tablet back to the paper, propping his palms on the tabletop, and stares deep into Levi’s unamused eyes.

“You’ll have to hunt this drug dealer down.” The curt order comes. Levi cocks a brow in confusion, wondering why the blond would make him do such thing.

“That’s the MP’s job. I thought I joined here to kill those filthy titans, what are you going on about?” he quizzes in confusion.

Erwin sighs, lids shutting close before he massages his temples. “The higher-ups are still not exactly in favor of your recruitment in the army, and as much as you hate buttering people up, you’ll have to deal with this case to secure your postion,” he makes intelligible, getting into the details so to clarify things out.

The raven haired man before him listens intently with a permanent scowl on his face, arms crossed over each other. He’s most definitely not liking the idea of seeking those damn swines’ goodwill. Just when he decided to trust the guy.

“You’ll earn Darius Zackly’s approval once you catch the little felon,” Erwin speaks truthfully. Of course, the Supreme Commander who so hates him, of all people. “It’s just this once. Trust me, you’ll have no more problems with your stay if you solve this case,” he even adds to convince the man. Not that there’s any way around this matter. Levi has to do this to prevent further threats in his position and to clear his reputation as well, by hook or by crook.

“You basically want me to suck up their asses,” he concludes, not a question, more of a full decisive statement. The Commander grunts his affirmative response, still getting used of his soldier’s sharp tongue.

“Tch. To hell with that.”

—

The afternoon later, he’s walking on the stony pavements of Stohess District, left with no choice but to follow the Commander’s orders.

Ever since the death of his last friends, Farlan and Isabel, just a few weeks back, things have gotten ridiculously out of hand regarding his enlistment. It almost arrived to a point where he’s wanted in court for seniors to debate whether he can stay up top or should be sent back to the Underground, considering his heavy crimes.

Holding a poster in hand, he studies the illustration keenly. It says the words WANTED: Notorious Drug Lord in big, thick, and bold letters. In the sketched picture is a person wearing a hood. From what he’s told, the wanted criminal has been in the hide for years now, but never once left the district.

“That man never shows himself. That portrait is from a witness in a pub near a shanty town. Some say he often appears wearing a cloak.” That’s what a Military Police officer said to him when he asked for the dealer’s whereabouts.

A man? He squints a little to see the image better.

It’s a bit difficult to determine since it’s only a roughly sketched side profile with a hood worn, blocking the hair, but he’s sure as hell those are certainly not eyes of a man, looking ultimately feminine and provocative. He doesn’t know, but those eyes are somewhat achingly familiar. And those plump lips that held a suggestive smile? He’s fully convinced that it’s a woman.

“A woman? That’s in no way a fair lady. Women here in Stohess stay at home and polish their husbands’ boots.” That’s what the Military Police officer said as well when he told it’s a woman.

Fucking sexists. Not that he cares, though.

Levi stops by the said pub, pushing on the saloon doors before walking to a table of three men, boisterously laughing like crazy. It’s dark and warm inside, the trademark ambience of local bars eating up the whole place. “Any of you seen this guy?” he lazily asks, showing the piece of paper to their faces.

Their eyes dart on the illustration before all of them fall silent, throwing looks at each other, and Levi can swear he could hear the rusty gears in their pea sized brain turn.

When they keep quiet, he almost surmises they turned mute upon seeing him and is about to leave them alone, finding them completely useless. He just wants to finish this task, and quick.

“Heard ya were a nasty criminal in the Underground,” the guy on his left comments and drinks the beer at hand, briefly pausing, “ya can’t seriously be turnin’ y’er back on that kinda past,” he smugly continues.

Levi’s brows twitch in irritation. How is that relevant to what he asked?

“Just answer the damn question,” he orders assertively and slams the paper onto their tabletop. The guys exchange gazes once again like it’s some sort of stupid inside code.

“What makes ya think ya can fool us? We know you’ll arrest us off the bat if we answer, young’un,” the man continues, his company still speechless. What, is he the leader of their pack or something?

The way they stare him down with the most condescending eyes is ticking him off to ridiculous measures, he could’ve knocked them out cold one by one already if not for the fact that they obviously know something, and nobody else is in the pub other than them and the staff.

“I don’t give two shits about your work. I’m not asking for you, I’m looking for this guy right here,” he jabs a finger into the poster, causing every one of them to look at it once more.

“I ain’t convinced—”

Levi has had enough of their refusal and decides to pull out his knife, kick the very chair the garrulous man is sitting on to drop him on the ground, beer spilling everywhere, before using the dirty sole of his boot to shove the man’s cheeks against the wooden floor.

He kneels down on his right knee, his other foot still stepping on the man’s face, and points the tip of his freshly sharpened knife just a few centimeters from his eyeball, which earns him a whimper of surprise.

“Gonna stop yakking any minute now?” Levi asks. It’s a bit surprising to him that the bartender of the pub didn’t meddle the whole time for pressing on his customers, oddly similar to the lukewarm nature of his hometown.

The two men freeze in fear, afraid that if they do anything to counter the soldier’s menace, their good friend might suffer and go blind. How worthless.

After a couple more seconds, the old geezer eventually gives in and speaks. “That’s our dealer,” he admits, voice weak and shaky. Levi cocks a brow and listens, finally getting the information he‘s aiming for.

“Guy’s been selling drugs that originated from the Underground,” he adds.

“Coderoin?”

“Yeah. He never shows up to us buyers, only sends brokers to deliver.”

“That’s not a man,” Levi corrects again, slowly getting convinced it’s someone he knows from way back. The descriptions about the wanted dealer and the way she arranges things precisely match, not to mention the poster looking exactly like her.

“I told you I won’t end up in brothels, Levi. I created something, and it’s doing great,” she says with a proud smile painted on her colored lips.

“What is it?”

“Coderoin.”

But the soldier only sounds out of his tree in the listeners’ ears, and they immediately speak to nullify his scarcely credible conspiracy theory. “There’s no way. Women here in Stohess—”

Yeah, he gets it. If they don’t believe it then let it be. See, this is why they haven’t caught the culprit for the past years, because they’re looking for a damn male.

“Where was she last seen?” Levi asks, completely dismissing their words, but the guy tries to oppose the small detail once again. “That’s a man—“

“Where was she last seen?” he repeats, cutting off his hostage’s words while he flattens with his boot the man’s cheeks in such a way as to crush his skull, emphasizing what really is important here and what he’s actually asking for. Levi ignores how the poor guy yelps in pain, waiting for intel he can benefit from.

“I don’t know!” he truthfully says, face already deforming from the forceful contact, having difficulty breathing.

“She lives at the skid row,” the bartender chimes in as he wipes on a glass, turning Levi’s head his way. Someone who knows her real identity, huh?

“How do you know?” he keeps his foot down and quizzes, looking for the authenticity in his words. The runt might be fooling him for all he knows, a trap to lure him in.

“I live there,” he simply says. “I don’t have business with her so it won’t be bad if I rat out on her,” he shrugs and turns his back to return to working. The guys listen, puzzled about what they’re talking about.

The ravenhead thinks for a moment, then rising to this heels, kicking away the head he was previously pulverizing before heading out the bar to make off.

In the end, none of them was substantial but the barkeep. And in Levi’s humblest opinion, the guy whom he mostly talked to should drop his so-called friends who didn’t even have the guts to drag their pal out of his plight, being one who gets rid of ineffective people himself.

He looks up at the gloomy afternoon skies once he exits, the clouds moving as he thinks about a variety of stuffs from his past. Envisioning and etching into his brain the familiar silky locks, rose red lips, and a pair of sultry eyes, he then starts walking.

Now, to find you.

—

With the help of the villagers’ directions, he’s arrived at the said skid row by foot. It surprises Levi a lot, having not expected to see a number of resemblances between the Underground and the surface. The visible corruption is no different from down there, with certain rundown areas openly exposed, just a couple blocks away from extravagant neighborhoods. That just goes to show that people’s amoral natures don’t change wherever they go.

He scans his eyes around, studying the dark and uninviting alleyways, the narrow paths, and the compressed townhouses. It’s almost as if the sun refuses to shine here.

This place isn’t any less than a junkyard, he thinks, coming from someone who has just escaped from one.

He takes a step forward to head to the flat where you apparently reside, only to get stopped by a bunch of gangsters, another guy putting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. An animal touching him with filthy fingers, something he hates the most.

“Where do you think you’re going, kid?” the insect says as he looks down on the soldier’s short stature, showing not a droplet of respect. “What’s a scout soldier doing here? There ain’t no titans here, boy!” There’s nothing they love to ridicule more than suicidal people under the disguise of a uniform.

He immediately uses his clean hands that would unfortunately be dirtied as he removes the assaulter’s arm away from him, squeezing it with great force before twisting the whole limb around with full intentions to dislocate it.

The man screeching in pain, Levi gives him a good kick in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. Of course, there’s three more left standing. Even if they’re rendered speechless and horrified, he still can’t let bothersome runts on the loose.

One of the delinquents attempts to swing a fist at him, a sorry excuse for a punch by the way, only to get hit right in the guts, disgusting spit flying everywhere. The other tries to slash a knife, which he only snatches away with nimble fingers before hitting a nerve on the neck to knock the guy out cold.

The last one, hairline already receding and looking grey, tries to hit him with a bat. It’s a pitiful sight to look at, really, how they all think they could give him a good beating when they approached him. He crouches down to dodge the weapon, dragging his dominant leg on the floor to kick sweep the old fart off of his toes, head falling against the solid concrete.

Dusting his hands to rid himself of the muck he gained from fighting them, Levi stands upright in vexation and observes as they either squirm or doze off on their own. A flock of vagrants that has got to learn how to keep their hands to themselves.

The thing is, he has had enough of drunkards trying to get on his way. He just wants to get his job done, bring you to those impotent MP’s and get this reputation Erwin kept saying to secure his position for a lifetime.

When finally sets foot on your alleged doorstep, he tries for three knocks, waiting for a response. As much as he wants to finish this task, he doesn’t want to barge in your suite, if possible, because he’d also hate it if it’s done to him. He tries again, focusing to catch with his ears any faint sound.

Minutes pass by and he turns the knob open to find out it’s unlocked the whole time, all his deliberations of keeping still and going down the drain.

It’s quiet and empty.

Levi freely enters, keeping an eye out for attackers, if there are. It’s small, but enough for one person.

He goes with the assumption that you live alone, and maybe don’t have any flings. He still remembers how you latch onto different guys back in the day to have them arrange deals for you. Yeah, you had a way with your words, especially towards men. The epitome of a social butterfly.

But maybe it’s not like that anymore, now that you’re in a city like this with rich people out and about.

How did you wind up here in the first place?

He keenly observes as he goes further in. To your credit, the place is relatively clean. No scattered trash, no messy clothing, and the furniture are well organized. Well, that’d be essential to make an innocent front and hide your junk evidence. But still, impressive.

Nothing really seems malicious at first glance. So far, no one’s coming out, and there are no drugs to be found.

He stumbles upon two more closed doors. He finds that one of them is a bathroom, and the other your bedroom. Aside from those, there’s nowhere else to go. He enters your personal space, looking for something peculiar.

Your bed is fixed, sheets folded nicely. You had a study desk, and a bookshelf. Based from the covers’ titles, they’re all about science. Tch. It’s a dead giveaway. No matter how much you tried to make an oh-so normal living space, those books would be a suspicious lead.

Now what? You’re nowhere to be seen.

Is she home?

He looks around the room looking for an ashtray or even a fire because somehow, it reeks of burning cigarettes, like it’s being consumed at the moment.

Something finally clicks inside of him. Of course, you’re a damn drug lord. An infamous one, at that. You’ll need someplace to hide once all hell breaks loose, and someplace to hide your stuff.

Levi uses his boot to lift the carpet he’s currently stepping on, and finds, just what he expects, a trapdoor. Clever, but not too much.

He then vigorously kicks the door open, which nearly bursts it off of its hinges, if not already. It swings down loosely, losing its assistive joints. He ignores the wooden ladder provided and instead jumps down, dropping on his knees.

“Now you gotta fix that,” says a soft and seductive voice that is definitely no stranger the young man.

Levi raises his gaze and finally finds you, sitting on a chair in the opposite end of a long presidential table, smoking a mint cigarette, and the stench reaches his nostrils. That’s where the ashy pong was coming from.

The secret chambers appear almost pit black from the lack of natural light if not for the candle sconces built on the walls all around, and the lone lantern situated on the table.

He scrutinizes you for a moment, meeting your luscious, glowing eyes. Your hair is styled just the way he remembers, luxuriant, untied, and flowing in sync with your movements. Your plump lips shaded red, fierce like how you want it. Your figure voluptuous by your feminine puff sleeved dress, black front laced corset over top hugging at your curves. For a dress so dainty, you ultimately still looked provocative.

Actually, he kind of understands how it’s unbelievable for such a lady to be a criminal of ill repute. Although nothing much has changed with you external-wise, your youthful attributes have only matured beautifully, and you’ve indeed grown up to be an enchanting woman.

“It’s me. You’ve found me,” you claim, feeling his strong stare burning into your skin. What, does he not recognize you now?

It’s totally the other way round. Every single one of your physical features under the warm candlelight’s reflection keeps rekindling memories inside his head, some just flat out inappropriate.

“So you are the goddamn drug dealer,” he states, not any less than a confirmation.

“Drug dealer is a bit brusque, don’t you think?” you comment with a smile. Anything but to be called a drug dealer. How cheap.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I prefer to go with narco hustler, rolls off the tongue just right,” you suggest. It sounds plain dumb to Levi’s ears, you had zero taste. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t,” you take back upon seeing his seriously bored expression. He has always been one so hard to read, but now he just looks evidently repulsed.

Levi stays standing across of you, resting his arm on top of the other, and leans back against the ladder. Maintaining respective distance, he decides to linger for a bit, intrigued by what stories you must got.

“Rumor has it you’re one of them now. Guess it’s true,” you posite as you observe his physique, wearing a uniform jacket with the wings of “freedom”. Couldn’t he have joined the MP’s out of the three? Lame.

The young man watches back as you lift your wrist up and bring the stick to your delicate lips, inhaling a lungful before blowing the smoke upwards, and he could easily feel how you held yourself up with superiority. Nothing new with the headstrong woman that you are.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he inquires right away, genuinely curious of your sudden disappearance years ago. He knew full well you weren’t dead, but he never got his hands on news about you.

“Huh? What the fuck are you doing up here, too? You surely downgraded from being a crime boss to a pongo’s dog. Seriously?” you retort cheekily. Last time you checked, he was doing well with his gang, couldn’t he have stayed that way?

He massages the temples of his forehead with closed eyes. Your words are making him think back to his decisions, but not too deeply. He reluctantly contemplates if it’s alright telling you things, but chooses to do so. You had a spot in his life, too, no matter how small. And he’s going to arrest you anyway.

“Lot of complications. It was all supposed to be a job to kill the Section Commander then we’d get granted citizenship…” he trails off, unsure of whether to go on or stop there, “but things took a turn.”

“Hmm?” you hum, waiting for his continuation.

He stays silent and refuses to say a word.

“Alright then. Well what about… who was it? Farlan and Isabel?” you ask cluelessly, thinking if you got their names right.

He sighs. It was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “They’re in the Survey Corps now as well?” you quiz, partially interested. You already know the answer. Who would leave their beloved boss? You just know for sure it won’t be them.

“They’re gone,” he averts his gaze, expertly hiding his emotions away with thick pride.

Your eyes largen a little in realization. “Oh. Sorry.” He catches you put out your cigarette by prodding its cherry into the glass ashtray. There’s still about half left but you paid no extra mind, and it says a lot about your well heeled state.

Enough about him. “What exactly happened to you?” Levi questions, and you prop your elbows on the tabletop, interlacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them.

“Bought citizenship,” you start off, never taking your glance off him. He‘s hot all right, still a sight for sore eyes. Heavily improved, even. It has been five years, after all. You admit, he aged like the finest wine there is.

“A pain in the pockets, yes. But worth it.” You pucker your lips and furrow your brows together upon remembering your old situations.

“Underground folks were becoming cheapskates day by day! Can you believe it? They’re trying to buy two-fifty for, what, five bronze coins? My stuff are as expensive as your maneuvering gear, you know!” you complain, memories of being wrongly paid years ago flashing through your brain.

That’s life. At least you’re well off now. That’s what’s important.

He rakes his eyes around the room and finds stacks and stacks of packaged tablets, same ones as those Erwin showed him.

“Coderoin, huh?” he comments, testing the word on his tongue. Nothing special with the name, probably came from the scientific components. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass.

The warm temperature from the window restricted room urges him to remove his jacket, and so he eventually does. You try not to raise both your eyebrows in captivation as you see the outlines of his muscular torso tracing through his clothes, his veiny forearms exposed by his cuffed shirt.

“I haven’t released it yet, but I just finished formulating a liquified version to easily shoot it up the veins for a more elongated and ecstatic experience,” you proudly brag to divert your attention as well, and Levi cocks a brow in confusion. Haven’t released it yet?

“The MP’s already know there’s a new formula,” he informs, recalling what the Commander said when he was educating him about it earlier.

“What? Already?” you ask, gasping in surprise. It’s a given that word spreads around here fast, but you’re doing your best to work in confidentiality. Some big-mouthed brokers of yours must be babbling.

“Yeah.”

“See how famous I am?” You giggle, letting the issue slide.

“Everyone thinks you’re a man.”

“What?” you ask again, completely scandalized, eyes widening in repulsion. They cannot be serious. You never knew that! Not even your associates told you!

It’s a bit amusing to him how that almost looks like it matters to you the most. Do you even know why he’s here? You don’t seem to be questioning his out of nowhere presence.

“You’re a drug abuser. It’s natural for people to think that way,” he says, eyeing your reactions.

“That’s mean! I’m not an addict. In fact, I don’t even do those often,” you oppose a matter-of-factly. It’s not half a lie, you probably had one the past week, but aside from that, you never took it recently. This stuff is for the customers to abuse. You don’t really have an avid addiction to it.

Honestly speaking, being one for dirty felonies ending just a couple months back, he couldn’t care less what kind of profession you had, as long as people find their own way to live, he’d immediately—but only mentally—give kudos to them. It’s hard enough trying to survive in a corrupt system.

You lived all by yourself back then. You were a tough and independent one, he’d give you that. You helped him with particular deals. Important ones.

In actuality, it’s solely because of you that he got his hands on certain armaments like the ODMG. It was hard to obtain those, seeing as it’s a highly illegal trade and costs an arm and a leg. Though on the plus side, it made his stealings more convenient and less a pain in the ass.

But he wouldn’t say you’re good friends, nor are you on the same gang. Associates, he would say. At times, something even more than associates. Oh, it’s not anything close to romantic. Just something beneficial on both sides.

“I mean at least I’m not a squaddie now, playing soldier like you,” you add, playfully mocking him. Levi throws you a glare of the same energy. It’s not like he wanted this. He’s got no choice, it’s better than going back to that sunken town, alone at that matter.

“You don’t show up to people here,” he surmises from what he learned. As you rise to your feet and walk to the piles of boxes, you fail to notice how he gives your form a runover, from head to toe, his eyes involuntarily staying on some shapely areas.

“This is where I bring my brokers. I’m not going face-to-face with my dear buyers now. What if they sell out on me? Can’t trust people nowadays.” It’s true, because back there, everyone was a criminal in their own ways. You grab a small bag of the tablets and turn around to show him, dangling it mid-air.

“But I’m telling you, people here are as generous as lords. It’s basically easy money everyday,” you say and throw him the drawstring bag, which he catches with one hand in maximum proficiency, the action causing his arms to flex a little. Oh, those muscles. Suave.

“You’re living in a dumpster.”

“It’s called a sentimental value,” you dismiss.

Levi pours some out and takes a moment to observe the packed drugs on his palm, the blue color even and smooth. He’s never found himself drawn to this kind of thing, but he understands the usage. Something to escape from reality for a short period of time.

“I never expected you to turn on your past, of all people,” you mindlessly comment, causing him to look at you with furrowed brows. Though you never meant that the bad way and just wanted to speak your mind, your choice of words still strike a nerve from within him.

Why the fuck are people on the surface keep acting like angels as if they’re any better? At this point, he’d prefer his hometown people over some half assed drug addicts.

This should be enough for today. He carelessly chitchatted for long, almost forgetting his true purpose of being here. It’s too bad he has to ruin your oh-so perfect life. Well, there’s not much he can do about that as it’s how the cookie crumbles. Dragging people down to rise up the ranks is part of the norm in this wretched society, it’s just unfortunate he has to do it to you.

“Say, what if you join me? Leave the Corps and let’s team up. You can run the errands, and I stay here to formulate,” you continue to propose, fully unaware that you ticked him off just a second ago, bringing him back to earth.

“I can’t. Apparently, I’m a soldier now,” he straight up rejects and starts to walk up to you, handcuffs ready by his belt.

Taken aback by his deadpan refusal, you tilt your head in an attempt to understand. “Well then, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to come with me,” the soldier finally admits, showing the restraining shackles he has at hand.

Realization dawns upon you, and you feel a bit dense. Oh, right. He did welcome himself into your home, completely unannounced.

A dry and bitter chuckle leaves your throat continuously, dissolving into a long thread of laughter that echoes around the spacious room, resembling those of a mentally deranged woman. Levi’s forehead knots in a mix of puzzlement and irritation as he waits for you to calm down.

Your fit of entertainment starts to boil down, tears of satiric bliss filling your ducts. You wipe them off timidly, building up the manner of being a prim and proper lady. “Sorry… that was funnier than I expected,” you apologize, and he couldn’t quite understand what you want to come across with. He waits for your explanation.

“Buzz off, will you?” you ask of him once you finish composing yourself.

“What?” the man quizzes.

Your face turns dead serious as you fish a tiny pouch from your dress’ pockets, throwing it lazily to the table, contents spilling mid air due to the loosened tie. An abundance of golden coins shower all over the place and fall suspendedly to the ground.

“I’m telling you to fuck off. Now,” you don’t flash him even the smallest of smiles as you curtly give him the order.

You’re bribing him.

And fuck, did you drive him round the twist, he has never felt so insulted his whole life.

Is it because you’re doing well than him now despite the honorability of occupation? Is it because it’s coming from someone he knows from the past? Is it because of your tone so ludicrously condescending it’s making every single drop of blood in his body boil?

“Need more? Why don’t we negotiate upstairs with the amount that will send you away?” you carry on with casting aspersions on him.

What a jackass. After all you’ve done for him? There’s nothing you hate more than shameless traitors, and this guy in front of you doesn’t bat an eye about being one.

Meanwhile, you were rubbing to his face the looming difference between his stability and yours. And of course, it doesn’t matter whose reputation is better, because both of you were miscreants at one point in life. The only distinction is: you gladly kept on with that line of work, and he was forced with his.

Levi takes big strides to reach your form, dropping both the jacket and the drugs he was holding. He’s furious, but he refuses to show. All he wants now is for you to shut your filthy mouth.

He lunges at you and slams you against the wall, wrapping his fingers around your neck. An involuntary whimper slips past your lips, and it certainly feeds his ego to see you so helpless. “Shut your damn mouth,” he bellows, tone imposing the dangers you could get from rubbing him up the wrong way.

You’re not about to give him what he wants. He’s barking up the wrong tree here, treating you so indiferrently for what? For letting him in and being hospitable? For offering him a generous partnership? Can you believe this guy? He’d throw your acquaintance off the window for his own sake. Selfish crab.

“Hate to see your ally so successful?” you attempt to breathe out, one hand trying to unclasp his fingers, one hand aiming to claw your nails at his face. He slaps it away before you can make contact and increases pressure.

Your eyes well up from the suffocating pain as he robs you of air supply, choking you tightly and pressing roughly. Crap!

“That’s—all you got?” you struggle to challenge him, same time trying to pull the slightest amount of oxygen into your lungs you can catch on.

Your dare does absolutely nothing but piss him off. Wow, you’re a bitch to try and control. Levi has the means to tighten his grip. It doesn’t even matter to the MP’s if he brings you dead as long as he can hand over the evidence. But he won’t go that far, because that far would be killing you off.

Staying that way for a moment longer, he examines your facial expression, still brave and never surrendering. He then lets go of you, but only by throwing you to the hard ground. Your back hits the flooring and you squint your eyes in sharp ache, all the while desperately breathing for any available air.

“Rot in hell,” you curse at him in great detestation. Lying back, you gently caress your neck as if to heal the reddened skin from the harsh force he applied.

Levi sighs, collecting himself, and kneels down in level with your weakened body. Maybe he went too hard on you. He has got to keep his temper at bay.

“Sorry,” he genuinely says. It’s not everyday he says that word, but when he does, he accepts that he’s mistaken. A bit surprised, you peer at him with a bleary vision, finding a scowl on his face as he admits his wrongdoing.

You swear you were ready to laugh it all out and forgive him, if not for the fact that he’s currently grabbing the handcuffs, still determined to arrest you. How sincere of him. What exactly was he apologizing for again?

You wait for him to scoot over, discreetly regaining steady breath as you stay laying down. You’re not the best at countering someone combat wise, but growing up a female in the Underground has taught you a couple moves enough to stall you some time to escape.

As he finally crouches beside you, you jolt up to sit and sling two of your arms around his nape and under his armpit, pulling him towards you before throwing him beside with the strength you can manage to utilize.

When did you learn that move? It baffles Levi a little, but he won’t let you have your way. His weight isn’t something you could overlook, that you’re dragged along with and on top of him. The moment you try to quickly prop yourself up and make a run, he grabs your waist and rolls over to bring you back down, straddling on top of you.

“I’ll kill you!” you spit to his face, once again feeling betrayed. You never once thought he’d drive you into a corner do this to you.

“That’s cute of you,” he says in graceful sarcasm. You fight him back with a piercing glare, but he only looks back at you with those apathetic, steel grey eyes. Nothing has changed within them, they’re still cold and indecipherable. It matches his personality well.

Apathetic? He can’t be all that bad, he’s just human. He has needs, one way or another.

You stick a hand out to pull his dark locks, and for once, you actually succeed. He hisses in irritation. He should have expected you’d put up a fight, but he doesn’t get why he’s just straight up pissed. Talk about annoying.

He doesn’t expect it when you forcefully yank him in for a deep kiss, the sudden motion causing your lips to crash together, freezing him in place. It’s all just to take him by surprise and then you’d gab the chance to run away in haste. Cheap trick, but worth a shot. If this will work, that is.

Earlier than he can try to push you away, you kick your knee into his abdomen and hurl him aside with all your might, doing your best to head to the ladder leading up to the trapdoor. But Levi is quick on his feet and kicks your leg to make you lose balance. Tripping over yourself, you fall toward the table, your stomach plowing into its side frames. He will never let you escape.

You inwardly curse him for being such a headache. Before you know it, your left arm is rashly held behind your back and you shriek in pain, your cheek shoved down onto the tabletop. Shit. He got you there.

“Can’t you be any gentler?” you ask, voice soft and of forged innocence, which is patently just an attempt to con him. He ignores you and instead starts wearing one part of the handcuffs around your wrist from behind. You think of anything to get yourself out of this. Chuckling dryly, “Hey… I told you already. Let’s talk things out,” you woo, but to no avail. Levi twists your arm a bit, not too much, but enough to shut you up. He sure is enraged.

A lock clicks from one of the shackles and you feel the cold steel wrap your frail wrist. It’s happening, the most humiliating moment for a criminal. You’re all tapped out of ideas—

with your limited field of vision, you scan your eyes around what you can see, finding a trail of drugs scattered on the ground. It must be from when he launched at you and tried to strangle you to death. Although you still don’t know why he did that, you bury the thought to the back of your head to come up with a plan.

—except one.

A smile creeps up your lips, one that appears when you just figured out something clever. Alright, then. Let’s see what else is enraged.

Not giving him the chance to lock both your hands together, from your held up position, you perk your bum up a little to make a feel for his crotch. Your thick cheeks hit something poking and you giggle in festivity. It so turns out your hunch is right, his bulge is, indeed, straining from inside his pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stops dead in his tracks and questions, more like an order for a valid answer.

With your bended over form being perfectly convenient, you wiggle your ass and stick it up against his obviously aching groin, teasing it even more. It’s a shame you’re both wearing clothes, your titillating movements ending up just mere friction.

“My, my. How long has it been like that?” you jest, voice about half an octave high and femininely suggestive. His brows knit in pique and flips you over to make you face him and to put a halt to your indecent measures. You click your tongue in mock, elbow propped against the table to look up at him.

“What a naughty soldier,” you whisper with a satisfied smirk, and reach a hand out to pull his cravat, yanking him down and in for another kiss. This time, it’s you who won’t let him escape, with nothing else but a nice trick for women to prevail over men.

It makes his hackles raise how you try to enter his mouth with your probing tongue like you’re the one in foremost control. As if he’ll let that happen.

He pushes your tongue back and bites your lower lip, earning him entrance along with a quiet mewl. He then travels your wet cavern with his own, forcefully exploring every inch to show you who’s in charge, like always. There and then, he instantly distinguishes the mint flavored nicotine evenly mixed in with your sweet saliva. It interests him how five years have already passed, and yet you consistently taste the same. Up until here, you never dropped the habit of smoking.

You try to fight back and earn your place, hooking both your heels into his hips to draw him closer. Even if it’s utterly inappropriate and misplaced, you quickly feel your pussy drip with excitement. Everything feels so nostalgic.

Amidst the kiss, his palm begins to roam around your body, from your neck to your chest. Levi finds the corset a hindrance, and he takes note to go back to it later, maybe rip it apart as well.

He resumes exploring your body, from your tummy, to your clothed womanhood. It starts to rile you up and turn you on as he slips his hand under your dress, not bothering to lift it up, just blindly cupping for your sex. When he finally feels your panties, you know for certain he smirked.

“You’re not so frigid yourself,” he comments upon the discovery that your growing wetness is soaking the fabric. He slides one finger against your slit, your undergarment still in between. He gently rubs on it as he sucks on your soft lips, earning him quiet moans in return. What a nasty tease.

When you both pull away for air, you open your eyes to look daringly straight into his grey ones, and while you exchange stares, you also let go of his cravat and grab his hand as if to guide them deeper and further in. He finds that you’re more than just eager when you put his hand inside, now in touch with your intimate skin. He gladly takes your offer and tears your panties away, his vigor making you laugh breathily.

Levi plunges two fingers in without delay, and you yield in defeat, letting him do as he likes. He has no intentions of lurking around the corner. You let your head hang back as he does you with his slick fingers, moaning to your will when he hits your good spots.

He lets his unreasonable hate and anger dissipate into nothingness, allowing himself to be indulgent in giving you pleasure. It’s been so long that this almost serves as your reunion. He doesn’t mind that. Just as long as he keeps in mind his sole purpose of breaking in to take him with you.

The ravenhead watches you spread your legs wider, visibly aching for more as you surrender to him and give him full control over your body. He moves his dexterous fingers in and out, the rhythm exquisite like how you prefer it. It’s like he still memorized you the same. Your responsive hums are tempting and fervid, your bodily movements a subtle indication of a longing. He increases his speed, looking for an angle to rub you up good, and he knows he hit it right when you shudder a little, back falling to the table and grip losing.

He lets on with working his hand, your juices coating his fingertips as he jabs them in deep repeatedly. It’s a flattering sight to see you so lost and vulnerable singlehandedly by his mere touch, and he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on.

Your sweet, melodious moans resonate inside the whole of the chambers, music to Levi’s ears. Your mouth partly hanging open, eyes in but a permanent daze as you struggle to crack them open. The way he has you going crazy is beautiful. You’re beautiful. Not half-bad-looking for a woman about to approach her thirties.

Out of nowhere, a mood ruining thought crosses his mind. He recalls you saying this place is where you bring your brokers. And since your neighbors haven’t found out your true identity and racket yet, having a clump of men visit your apartment could entirely be misleading.

It’s only natural that they think you’re some kind of courtesan selling your body. Knowing you, you don’t give a flying fuck if people think that, but with him, it doesn’t sit right. Who knows? Maybe you actually humor the same men every once in a while. Just look at what you’re doing now.

A grim expression materializes on his face. No, he’s not jealous. But in all honesty, he wants what’s his to stay his.

You couldn’t think of anything as he harshly thrusts his fingers into you, your body’s consciousness focusing only on the uprising pleasure, but when you’re this close to coming, all of a sudden, he pulls them out at once, grabs your hands and finally locks both your wrists together with the handcuffs before pinning them on top of your head.

Cruelly left hanging, a wave of disappointment rushes over your veins. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” you whine, genuinely annoyed as you’re already fully installed and waiting for your explosion. Did he do that on purpose? Yes. But to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything to lift you up or bring you with him to jail.

Brows furrowed and eyes dark, Levi unties your corset’s lacing in a rapaciously eager manner, harshly pulling down the garter of your neckline to let your boobs bounce free. Your eyes widen a little when he pulls your skirt up to gain thorough access of your fruity folds. You didn’t expect him to continue on, with you restrained, even.

“Just like the good old days, huh?” you tease, voice awash with prurience. Although this reminds you of those days, this is surely going to be a new experience. While handcuffed? You love it, and just thinking about him pounding you out as you’re unable to lay your hands on him makes your neck hairs straighten in great arousal. You’re totally into this!

He’s suddenly reminded of years ago when you’d come over to catch up with the latest trades, or simply just bring with you your babbling of the day. Oftentimes, the visit ends up in the bedroom, the couch, the kitchen.

You were both young, both helping fill each other’s primitive needs and desires, not the thinnest string left attached. You handled the whole thing casually, the whole thing being just lustful sex every once in a while. Fuck buddies. That’s what they call it.

Memories of your heated body rubbing up against his, lips messy on one another’s skin, hands everywhere, nude and naked—sometimes still completely clothed, fucking you against the wall, fucking you on the counter, and finally, you kneeling on the floor as you eat him up hungrily. All of those, just five years ago.

He’s only proven you haven’t changed despite the time difference when you kick your kitten heels away like you disregard its price, stretch your right leg out to reach his crotch, your foot making a feel for his huge bulge.

He looks down to his pants, your toes stroking his covered length invitingly as if to provoke it. “You’re one fucking dirty bitch,” he points out upon your indecorous actions, meeting your catlike eyes illuminating nothing but indiscriminate salacity.

“We’re not all that different, see?” you tell, never tearing your gaze off him as you continue moving your foot up and down. He’s straining so bad, almost making you giggle. Come on, Levi. You’re just as aching as me. We could use a quickie.

He sternly grabs your ankle to stop your lewd ways and keeps quiet until you speak. Does he really think he can stop you from acting so dirty? You then bring your chained wrists to your chest, gently massaging your exposed breasts with what space you can manage, giving him a little show you know he can’t resist.

“I mean, just look at you, wearing a cheesy cravat like it’s gonna make you look dignified,” you poke fun at him and laugh, flashing him a grin before seductively licking your lips. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, but is still unable to take his eyes off of your body as you continue to play with your very own mounds.

“Shut up,” he orders, stripping the authority in his tone. Oh… you know him perfectly well. It’ll only take one last trigger for him to fire away and spring into action.

“You shut up and just fuck me,” you demand candidly, the smile in your face disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You like to think he’s one hell of a dog as he listens to your whim, undoes his trousers, only dropping them so far because of his difficult, complicated, and inhibiting harnesses. What a costume. He glares at you when you raise a sly brow at him, cocky expression conveying the words: still wanna be a soldier?

Levi just wants you to shut up for real, and he victoriously does that by pulling your body closer to the end of the table, then practically ramming his huge dick inside you, his massiveness able to cover your whole depth when he mercilessly buries it in. A long and sonorous moan leaves your throat in the utmost pleasure. Shit, he’s so big! Your tight walls are forced to adjust, desperately stretching to adapt to his size.

“Oh, fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back to release your emotions, eyes clenching shut in nauseating pain. Overwhelming! Can a man in his age still grow? You didn’t expect this in any way. It sure hurts like a bitch, but that’s just one of the reasons why you love it.

The cadet starts moving in a pace that tells you he won’t be beating around the bush, quick and rough. The only thing you’re worrying about is the soreness that you’ll get once this is finished, because right now—you’ve said it two times—you love it.

His anger seeping as he forces his dick in and out of your fuckhole, Levi finds it an entertaining cabaret as he watches you, your makeshift play consisting of you opening your mouth wide to moan in fervor, whipping your head side to side, eyelids falling while he quickly drives you to the brink of insanity. One bewitching whore, he thinks.

He bucks his hips even faster and spreads your legs wider apart to let you have what you want, violent and aggressive. Like an obedient lady’s man, Levi spoils your carnality by licking his middle and forefinger to rub your engorged clit, his spit helping him circle the most sensitive spot in ease.

You arch your back up in surprise, your nerves receptive in alerting you of the littlest motions. He’s so good. So good that your brain is going blank, unknowing of what to do. When you squirm under him, try to shoot up and search something to hold on for dear life, only to fall back against the table, your manacled hands suddenly add up to the gratifying thrill stirred with powerlessness. It makes Levi smirk for a fleeting second.

Not so free now, are you?

Simultaneously, Levi deepens his thrusts and starts to rubbing your clit directly to intensify the sensation, back and forth, up and down. With fervent eyes, he feasts on your body as it loses control, tits bouncing from his relentless humps, pussy unendingly leaking. Out of reflex, you try to wriggle away, but to no avail. You’re losing your mind by his marvelous stimulation, and you remember just how he feels like before.

The humidity is starting to take over your bodies, and you both feel hotter. The dark room, the rattling of the lantern on the table, sweat beginning to break through your skins, his stifled grunts, your loud wails, both your heads full of lustful desire. Who knew an apprehension would end up like this? Purely lewd. Seems normal to you, though.

The telltale signs of your upcoming orgasm appear. Your walls envelop around him tightly, your moans longer and hitching, your breaths shaky as you catch it and whatnot. The immense pleasure that keeps gradually stacking up inside your veins finally snaps free, and you come with unruly convulsions. Eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, your cunt contracting around him, he doesn’t stop, and fuck is it overbearing.

His dick reaching the end of you, his merciless thrusts unwavering when you’re obviously trembling uncontrollably, he’s a damn ruthless lad. The amount of spasms you receive is livid, you so wanted to applaud yourself for choosing the perfect guy. Exceptional taste.

Your high eventually tones down and you’re back to awareness. The demon stops moving soon as well, deciding maybe you’ve had enough.

You gasp for breath after losing your grip from the mind boggling experience. It’s been so long since you’ve had amazing sex, and when you say so long, you mean excruciatingly long years. You study him as he looks back at you. Still so dominant, isn’t he? Refusing to get off the same time you do.

Alright. You’ve had enough mindless nooky. Now it’s time to break free from his clutches. From your lied down position, you then proceed to distract him with some ramblings.

“You better not be fucking your comrades like this,” you quip, collecting yourself.

“I’m not like you,” Levi answers and pulls out, thinking about how much men you’ve entertained your whole life. You cock a brow upon hearing his smart assed reply and mock him again, a giggle escaping your mouth, “Gonna keep acting so clean?” He should know not to continue wanting to look like a saint. He’s not any different than you, for shit’s sake.

“You have a screwed up background, Levi. You can’t seriously be thinking your superiors will be in favor of you just because you lick their boots,” you honestly advise. Disgusting. One moment he’s leading his people, then being ordered around the next.

It’s this again. You shamming like you’re so immaculate. He’d prefer it if you get off your high horse.

“I’m giving you a chance, just quit and—“

“If you keep running your damn mouth, I’m going to make use of it,” he cuts you off before you can continue offering him a deal. It’s not that you genuinely believe he’ll go with it, you just want to stall him because you’re only playing by ear. One wrong move and he’ll stop you dead in your tracks.

His words pique your interest. Does he mean that in the sense that you think it is? “Oh yeah? And how?” you push his buttons to give it a shot.

Levi shows you what he means through grabbing you by the nape to yank you up, then dropping you to the floor, pretty face nearly shoved to the concrete. It hurts a tad, your knees hitting the ground roughly, but your eyes almost immediately dart on the bunch of azure tablets scattered everywhere, three of them within your reach. Perfect!

Quickly, you snatch them with both your hands in one fell swoop, and Levi miraculously misses out on your sneaky motions. You hiss a little in pain and close your palms together tightly when he pulls a fistful of your hair to hoist your head up. Forced to make eye contact with him from below, you momentarily meet his gaze brimming of disrespect before he dicks your mouth down with his length.

He pushes your head to his groin and pounds, so deep and so rash that you literally feel him hit the back of your throat. Tears pool from your ducts as you’re forced to take him inside your mouth. But he doesn’t get it wrong, because he knows you like it, of course.

With full intentions to reach his own end and cum on your pretty tongue, he shoves his erection into your warm cavern and tightens his hold on your now messy locks. He eyes you with resounding authority as you’re down on your knees with fettered hands on your lap, dress still on but tits bare and pouching outward from your neckline, looking up at him with glistening eyes like a good, well-behaved girl. It madly turns him on seeing you like that, what a view.

His fierce stale eyes prod you to bravely blink the tears away and independently move to your own will, proceeding to suck him with stupendous obedience. Fine then, you’ll go along with him. Nothing wrong about taking your time.

Levi throws his head back a little from your sudden motion, bobbing your head back and forth in harmony with his pumps, but quickly returns his gaze to you. You gladly eat his whole size without hesitation and keep your body still, nipples fully peaked in eagerness.

You’re always so damn good, just as he remembers. Never going without a challenge, the same lecherous emotions brewing within your orbs, listening to what you’re told. His grunts start to become audible.

“Look at you, sucking like a little slut,” he groans, slowly becoming unable to process things by your turn on serving him gratification. You give him a hum in response, the muffled sound creating a vibration as you continually hollow your mouth wide open against his thickness, sending chills up and down his spine. He inwardly curses, fuck.

Levi untangles his fingers from your strands, rests them on top of your head instead, and stops giving guidance, allowing you to perform well. You know just what to do and how to please him anyway.

You pull away, a loud and satisfying pop ringing inside the enclosed space upon losing connection. Panting, you inhale the air you could to prep yourself, temperate breath ghosting over his dampened skin. Time to take matter into your own devices. You glimpse at your interlaced fingers, clinking of metals reaching your ears. You can work this without using your hands. Let’s give him a show.

Pausing, you adore his intimidating thickness, the glowing pearls of precum impressively still there on its tip. You playfully swathe it with the edge of your tongue and look straight at him with a childlike gaze, the salty taste staining your buds. The sensitive area causes him shudder and shut his eyes closed inadvertently. And it’s rewarding to see him so affected, because this play is more about you controlling his pleasure, less about him being invulnerable. You feel your pussy trickle with desire.

Without any beating around the bush, you angle your neck a little to the right before gingerly taking him inside your mouth once again, closing in inch by inch. When you dauntlessly push forward until you’re on the verge of gagging, his size filled your throat the way you like it. Then, you go back to pumping in and out in a regular pace, sucking the tip harshly every once in a while.

Levi could feel himself approaching, his guttural groans set free and detectable. Fuck, you wanted to stroke him with your hands to add up to his growing euphoria, but you can’t.

This time round Levi is only able to peer at you from his drooping lids, following your every movements, and he finds winsome the way your cheeks lose its original shape due to his cock being inside, your lips lush and full around his shaft, tongue dancing in a way that mirrors the lantern’s fire. Moving in a very devious pace, you run a lick on the underside of his hot, veiny penis, lapping him up like a thirsty bitch. God, you are coy, and it’s taking him every last ounce of his resolve for his body not to react something close to pitiful submission.

It takes him one last blow for him to finally explode, a powerful rush spreading all throughout the ends of his limbs, his balls clenching as he shoots his cum deep inside your chops, to which you willingly gulp down, a satisfied ahh leaving your lungs like your quench for his seed has been solved.

The soldier mindlessly pats your head, and you give him a quiet purr before rising to your feet. We’re not finished yet.

As if your lips are magnetized into his own, you lean in and let them crash together. He answers back just the same, indicating he’s still up for some more. But you shouldn’t put your guard down, you might not know it if he knocks you out all of a sudden.

“You’re still the same nasty whore I know,” he vehemently growls in between the lip locking, intense flame starting to devour his system. “Shut up,” you talkback. You ache to touch him but these irksome shackles are on the way. You choose not to mind it anymore since it’s only a matter of minutes before you leave.

You push him back down to the chair and he sits down in force. “Pull my skirt up,” you order on a whim, and he does as he’s told, holding your skirt for you. You help yourself into the same chair and truss your knees beside his thighs, settling for a convenient position until you’re straddling his front, wrists on the chest’s top rail, then sitting on his fully stiff and awaiting cock. As you spread your laps apart to aim and sink down, you swear you almost went insane.

A lengthy, strenuous hum slips out your lips upon letting your tight cunt engulf his big dick. “Fuck,” you mutter, whipping your head back in zeal. You should try not to lose your mind or else.

Your stretched out neck grants him the opportunity to nibble at the delicate skin, sucking intensely to create a mark of ownership, the tangy flavor due to the thin film of sweat covering your skin. It stings a little when he nips, but almost tickling at the same time. You mewl and let Levi finish his job and lower your forehead to meet his glance.

It doesn’t take you long before returning to crashing into him, his distinct taste amusingly addictive to you. The kisses sloppy and unorganized, you begin to roll your hips up and down, and he thrusts upward to meet you like an animal in heat. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out low.

You pull away to gasp for wind, chest stuttering and ragged from your unfaltering humps. “I know,” you brag and pause. The near to none distance between you two allows you to study his facial features and point out what changed by the years.

Hmm, not a lot really. He still looks twenty-four with his superbly chiseled jaw, slightly parted inviting lips, narrow nose, and the slim lining of his brows. Flawless and without fault, except for the darkening bags under his silver pools, which you dig by the way. He is, in fact, the godly embodiment of sexy, you bet women in his rank swoon for him only to be pushed aside. Lucky of you, you have a one of a kind charisma that drags this real life devil to his feet.

You look into each other’s face for a couple briefing moments, both of you discovering similar pairs of fiery eyes filled with lust in an overflowing amount. Meanwhile, his gaze dawdles on your red lips, color smudged by his doing, and he likes it. The longer he stares up at you, the more he’s convinced you’re nothing but a licentious woman hiding under your little renaissance dresses. Just thinking about it makes him want to fuck you so bad.

Levi refuses to stay still and dives into your breasts, causing your back to arch, unexpectedly hitting the perfect spot. He isn’t content and squeezes your butt, then letting his hands sit just at the top of your ass’ globes. “Levi—ah!” Shit! You desperately hold back your uprising orgasm. You have to stay in tact.

With that in mind and while he suckles on your twin mounds, you grab the chance to wring your clasped hands to your mouth, letting three of your dear coderoin melt and simmer under your tongue. This will have to do.

It’s thrilling, you’re about to drug a person who’s currently eating your boobs out hungrily in an alternating manner. What an odd situation. You wish you could continue fucking, but let’s not forget that Levi is very objective, and he’ll still eventually do his task no matter how much fun you spent with him. Before he can do that, you’ll just beat him to it.

You wait for the sweet, pungent tang to unravel, and when he lifts his chin to kiss you, the drugs are already diluted by your spittle. You skillfully transfer it into his mouth in a sparse method so he won’t notice right away.

Completely unaware, Levi gets to sparring with your tongue in a battle of ascendancy, his hands groping everywhere, and you don’t stop riding him gracefully like you didn’t do anything malicious at all.

With every grind being slick, an endless seduction, you continue enjoying yourself for the last lingering junctures. The constant sheathing into your impossibly close-fitting fuckhole extracts husky groans from his throat, ending up subdued against your mouth. He bites on your lower lip, earning himself a delightful whimper.

Two minutes pass by, something snaps, the brisk effectiveness all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why kissing you feels so dizzying, and… intoxicating. He slowly stops moving his lips and pulls away, cracking both his eyes open, only to be greeted by a cunning look. Then and there, overwhelming peak hits him like a freight train.

He feels less aware, a heavy weight being pressed against his body, colors around him becoming vibrant and he bets his whole life he could feel his own blood stream moving from inside his veins, synchronized with his heartbeats. His peripheral vision seems artificially sluggish yet accelerating.

Your lips quirk upward, discovering the befuddled expression plastered on his handsome face. You notice how his muscles strain in distress, but he can’t move even a single inch, indicating your success.

Levi’s brows furrow in cluelessness, eyes later widening upon realizing what kind of dirty stunt you pulled on him from up your sleeve.

You fix your posture upright before removing your body from his, heaving out a sigh of relief. Standing up, you look at him. Frozen and unable to do a single thing to restrain you. Down and obedient like a mere, small pet. At long last! He’s out of your hair.

“You’re too high to walk straight right now, aren’t you?” you jest, voice laced with the most graceful condescension. Of course, you know perfectly well first times can be extremely stupefying, especially with the dosage you just used for a rookie like him. Instead of it being euphoric, it’s entirely going to be the opposite. Nothing close to good.

“What the fuck did you just do?” poor Levi seethes in anger, but even his tone sounds tenfold more groggy compared to when he first arrived.

“Gave you a heavenly experience?” you giggle and repeatedly pull your wrists away from each other in an effortless attempt to break them apart, the hindrance of a shackle limiting your movements. Bothersome.

What part of weariness and intense jet lag is the heavenly experience? In a trice, Levi blames himself for being careless and taking you for granted. He should’ve done better than forget you’re from the same garbage dump he’s from. You’re one fucking crazy bitch.

Helpless, he watches you walk to the part of the table where you left the cigarette pack, shaking it all out just to get one and clip it between your lips. Some roll off to the ground, but you pay it no heed. His blood is boiling hard and tries to stand. You let him squirm around, confident that he can’t do anything, and struggle on your own to fish your lighter from your dress’ pockets.

You take your precious time lighting your stick, butane triggering the fresh burn of tobacco. You don’t mind that you look ridiculous with both hands on your face, or that your hair is a mess, or that your breasts are popped out. As you suck for smoke and briefly fill your lungs to then blow it upwards, you think, it’s just you and a spiked guy in here anyway.

Letting the nicotine rush take over your senses, you sit on the edge of the table and examine the dark haired soldier. What gives, he’s more impotent than you now. It’s ever so rare to see Levi so open to attack. “Mint goes well with coderoin, you know?” you inform just to piss him off.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Though you can hear his fury, the threat only sounds so void, the usual venom lacking from his pitch.

He sits back as you pull in smoke into your chest, exhale it out, menthol aroma reaching his nose. You chuckle heartily that among every tip and corner of his body feels like burning from rage.

Time is ticking and slipping away from Levi’s grasp. He stays silent, the pounding of his heart loud enough to ring in his ears. He can’t accept he got deceived. Did you plan this from the very start? When? The moment he told you his intentions? The second he asked about your life here? Or maybe when he kicked the trapdoor open? That can’t be. Five years, and you’re quicker on your feet than you once were.

“That’s cute of you,” you copy what he said when you barked the same phrase. You admit, earlier was a close call, but thanks to your sharp mind and the past you shared, you won him over. Barely.

As always, men are most vulnerable when driven by libido. What fools.

With one last hit of the cigarette, achieving the lightheaded state you’re aiming for, you drop it to the floor, not bothering to extinguish it. Burn this house down, for all you care. You’ll have to move places from now, knowing he might start tailing behind you for vengeance.

Now, you can’t stay longer. The drugs won’t last on him from such a method. It’s not the right way to take it—through kissing.

It was a good time, but unfortunately, you have to part ways with him. The guy wants to arrest you, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You’d rather settle in and have five kids with an old geezer than spend the rest of your life in a prison. You’re not dense, you know how heavy your crimes are, having circulated in both the Underground and the surface for plenty years. Impressive of you, right? Makes it all the more fun to carry on.

That’s why they should just dream of catching you, because you’ll never let that happen.

You walk toward his immobilized body, movements slinky as you bend over to reach his face and deliciously run your tongue over his lips, tasting the seemingly nectar. As much as he wants to just grab you by the hair and kick your annoying face, he’s only able to lift his arms up a few inches before falling back down again.

It doesn’t escape your field of vision, reminding you to leave immediately. “Sweet, isn’t it?” you ask once you pull away, a sly smile on your lips.

“Why don’t we call it a truce, shall we?” you lastly negotiate. His lips are firmly pressed into a thin line and refuses to say anything. Steel grey eyes look back at you in annoyance. You tilt your head in curiosity. You know he has a lot going in his brain. This might be the last time you see each other, will he choose to keep those in?

Well, he does want you out of his sight right now before he regains his strength and kill you on the spot. He clicks his tongue in impatience.

“Just fucking leave, you lunatic,” he spits. You sure will.

“Gladly. Until next time, Levi,” you drawl and blow him a kiss goodbye, then strutting away in triumph, smile never leaving your face even if you’ve fully turned your back on him.

When you finally disappear, he lets out an exasperated sigh, contemplating his defeat. Nape resting on the chair’s rail, he looks up to the dark ceiling. A droplet of sweat slides from his forehead, which he manages to wipe away in no time, resilience overcoming the delirium.

Actually pondering about it, you’re a real witty one. Of course he was still going to take you with him eventually, he just hasn’t planned it ahead. Seriously though, a sneaky tactic. He massages his nose bridge, shaking his head.

What a crazy brat.

In the end, he decides to just pass on the work to Erwin about getting on the good side of the monarch and politicians, knowing full well he was in for some major explaining—maybe leave out the obscene details.

499 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Not today

Written by: @emilia206

Prompt 4: Trope: Jealousy Katniss. Modern AU Katniss Everdeen sees his ex boyfriend as the date of one of her coworkers in the company party. She shouldn’t care, because she broke with him, one year ago and still…. when their song plays, against her better judgements, she finds herself dancing with him. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Rating: Mature

Word count: 8062

British lingo you might be unaware of:

A-Level’s - Last form of examination before students go off to university.

Ladbrokes - betting shop

Tesco - food store

(If I left anything out, let me know)

A/N: Thank you to my wonderful beta @melting-starlight, on ao3 she’s Starlight_Wren.

Forlorn, she stares down at her lager, it’s the first moment of quiet she’s had since she entered the pub. Plutarch had been the first to drag her away, talking about everything from what his lunch was like to how much the station was missing her shows. She had only been able to nod and smile, making agreeable noises at the appropriate times, but otherwise letting all of his words wash over her. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Plutarch had bustled off through the crowd to go talk to another unsuspecting colleague. She had tried to crane her neck over the other patrons’ head, to see if she could spot either Johanna or Annie, the only reason she had relented and come to this thing. But before she could make any discernible recognition, Fulvia, Plutarch’s right hand woman, had sidled up behind her, saying that they simply must ‘catch up’. Ever straight to the point though, she had skipped pleasantries and gone right to the heart of the matter. What had she been doing this past year?

The answer was a pretty simple one, but for some reason that escaped Katniss, it needed lots of explanation. She had spent close to forty-five minutes getting her brain picked apart. Trying, to no avail, to explain to the silly woman the exact reason she had uprooted her and left everything behind to travel all over the globe. Meeting new people, not many, but some. Enough people, Katniss thought. At first, there hadn’t really been a point in it, other than she had to get away from the shit show that was her life. Five years she’d worked at that stupid radio station, blathering on about meaningless things that made her mind fog up with the mundanity of it all. And all she had gotten out of it was a small damp flat in the north of London, with expensive bills and an insufferable landlord. Five years of only seeing her little sister once, twice if she was lucky, a year. Five years of shattered dreams and a dead end job. And still, this woman could not understand why she would want to leave. Of course Katniss never said any of this to Fulvia, but it had been swimming around her head throughout the entirety of the conversation. Instead, she had given watered down reasons and held her tongue as Fulvia had gone on to say, “But what about that boyfriend of yours? I remember him being so supportive…”

She didn’t want to get into that, how she had left him behind. It had been a year and the wound that it had inflicted still ran too deep, was too painful to get into. Especially with nosy, judgy Fulvia. So, she had politely excused herself from the conversation, taking to the bar and ordering herself an overpriced pint. Fantastic. It wasn’t like she was strapped for cash or anything.

Having given up on searching for Annie and Johanna at this nightmarish reunion, she had found herself a quiet corner in the buzzing room, sitting on a lumpy sofa and setting her drink down on an aged wooden table that had ring marks on the surface from drinks overspilling. It wasn’t often that she thought about Peeta, having long since trained her mind to immediately turn and run in the other direction if any thoughts began leading her down that painful path. But now, with Fulvia bringing him up, and being surrounded by people who had all been privy to their relationship, it was only inevitable that she should think of him. Specifically, the last time she had seen him.

—————————–

His face had closed off, completely shuttering all emotions that would otherwise flick across his face. And still, as he stood, staring blankly at her, she continued talking. Trying to explain herself, explain why she just had to leave.

“Please Peeta, believe me when I say it isn’t you,” she whispered, “I just feel so trapped in my own life, and I feel as if I don’t leave now, I never will get anywhere.”

“What about us?” he replied, tone blank and neutral, but still betraying the underlying anger and confusion.

She shook her head sadly, tears falling unbidden from her eyes. Desperately wanting him to hold her and tell her it would be alright, but needing him to stay well away from her so that she could do this. Finish this, clean and precise as Johanna had told her to do it.

“Right,” Peeta said, voice hollow.

They stood there, silence engulfing the little flat. It was never silent in there, the generators downstairs always humming, her boiler constantly gurgling away, but it seemed even these held their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think you should leave now,” Katniss said to her feet, not daring to look up at his face.

She stood in her kitchen, stock still, as if any movement from her would cause her to break and shatter on the linoleum tiles of the floor. She listened as Peeta collected his toothbrush and spare clothes. Katniss flinched at the sense of finality she felt when the door banged shut.

————————-

Their break-up had been anything but clean and precise, and it wasn’t a wonder considering that Katniss had been at the helm of it. It was ironic, really, that for five years, her income had depended on her being able to talk for hours about nonsensical things, always upbeat and on the ball for the listeners chiming in, but when it came to her own boyfriend, she hadn’t been able to get the words out right. She had made him think that it was him that was suffocating her, when in actuality it was everything. She was pushing thirty and already she could feel herself stagnating.

She wished that she could do it again, try not to make such a mess of it as she had done. How could she have known, though, the profound affect it seemed to have had on Peeta? He had always been so supportive of her decisions, only asking that she open up to him and be honest. Of course she hadn’t expected him to be completely OK with her decision, but she had been hoping that he would at least understand her reasoning. Instead, he had been angry and confused, perhaps even rightfully so, before he had completely shut down becoming cold and distant in the moments prior to him slamming out of her little home.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a perky voice said next to her, pulling Katniss out of her reverie.

Looking up, Katniss couldn’t help but smile at the big brown eyes that were peering down at her. Rue. Her intern from a year ago. She didn’t look much different, just a little older and worse for wear. But that’s what this job did to you, lured you in with promises of bigger and better ahead, before getting you trapped and very much stuck.

“You don’t want to know,” Katniss replied, shuffling over and making space for the young woman.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Rue asked, her lips quirked upwards in a smile.

“Neither thinking, nor talking about it will solve a thing,” she mumbled down at her glass before taking a prolonged drink from it. She reveled in the fizz and slightly bitter taste as it washed down her throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna be all closed off to me, your favourite intern, I’ll let you in on all of my issues to date,” Rue said, taking a sip from her own glass.

Katniss smirked. It was true that Rue was her favourite intern, but that wasn’t exactly a feat. Most interns that Katniss had been given the responsibility of taking care of had been so awful that they were fired within their first two weeks of working at the station.

“So, remember how you warned me before you left, that this job ‘will suck me dry of all inspiration and motivation’ whilst also ‘dashing my dreams and love for the craft’ but not before ‘restricting what me on what I can talk about, and instead giving me stupid shows that will make me want to die’?” Rue paused, taking a drink from her pint.

“Yes, I do recall telling you all of those things, I assume you’ve come to the conclusion that I was correct and that you should have saved yourself while you could,” Katniss said, trying not to gloat at the fact that she was at least right about something, and it wasn’t just her overreacting and being dramatic.

Rue nodded her head vigorously, her corkscrew curls bouncing, “Well, I’ll be honest. At the time, I thought you were just being dramatic, or maybe you were bitter about something, but you really were so right. I can’t get anyone to take me seriously or invest in any bigger show ideas, or get them to take on or promote more obscure artists. The sponsors continuously overlook me so that they can pour more money into presenters who have a body to boot. Even though that shouldn’t matter, ‘cause we’re on a fucking radio, nobody is looking at the face or body behind the voice anyway!”

“And as soon as I try to get Plutarch or Fulvia to give me a recommendation so that I can move to something a little more low key and less industrious, they tell me that I shouldn’t leave, that I have so much potential, and that it would be such a waste for me to go do something less mainstream, because how will I ever be recognised then?” Rue finished with a defeated groan, flopping back against the leather cushions.

Looking up at the ceiling, Rue asked, “How’d you get out? I mean for me, it’s just an endless cycle of early mornings, playing music that makes my ears bleed, and frustration that after all my hard work, I’ve just become another peppy girl on the radio.”

Katniss snorted at this, “Depressing, isn’t it? After all the analysing of different styles of music and poetry, it amounted to this.”

“Fuucckk,” Rue groaned at the ceiling fans, “It’s depressing because it’s so painfully true. Do you know how many hours I spent holed up in my room studying for my Music and English A-Levels just so I could at least get a seven, and now I’m stuck here.”

Katniss nodded her head, “Only ‘cause I did the same thing though. What were we thinking?”

“Ugh, I know! My mum told me that this was an ‘unsustainable career path’. I hate to say it, but I think she may have had a point.”

A crash came from the other side of the room, effectively interrupting their mutual venting session, a clattering of glasses fell to the floor and shattered, causing both Katniss and Rue to jump before turning around to see what happened. A flustered waiter apologised profusely to a skimpy blonde who looked upon him with narrowed green eyes, and a stain that looked an awful lot like red wine spilled on her yellow dress. The few people who had been applauding the waiters slip up began to slow their claps when they realised that the unfortunate woman who now had a stain across the front of her dress, was not taking it on the chin as it were. In fact, she looked like she was a few seconds from throwing a fit.

“Oof, would not want to be that guy,” Rue remarked, “Glimmer looks about ready to go get his ass fired.”

Katniss turned to look at Rue, who was leaning her chin on the back of the sofa, “How’d you know her name?”

Rue made a face, “She’s a presenter at the radio station, she does the show that Annie used to do.”

“Shit, really,” Katniss said, blowing air through her teeth to make a low whistling sound. “That show was one of the more popular ones.”

“Still is. Rumour has it that the company hired her to replace Annie, who was making noises to leave, so they sent her Glimmer as an intern. Annie left a week later, claiming that the work environment had become insufferable.”

Katniss had turned back to watch as the waiter bent to pick up the broken glass, whilst so-called Glimmer rolled her eyes impatiently at another waiter who was handing her paper towels to try wipe up the mess on her dress. While watching, Katniss listened intently to what Rue was saying, “People weren’t surprised when she quit. Glimmer is quite literally the epitome of a toxic work environment.”

“Oh well, this just makes me all the more glad that I left,” Katniss said. Annie had emailed her when she’d quit, but hadn’t given a reason why. At the time, Katniss had just assumed it was because both Johanna and herself had already left, but this must have been the breaking point for her.

“Oh, she’s not even the worst of it,” Rue said, a cynical smile touching her lips as they watched another woman with jet black hair and pinched features walk up to Glimmer, she took the paper towels from the waitress and threw them down to the floor, yelling something unintelligible, “That’s Clove. As you can see, she’s got quite a temper on her. She’s the one who replaced Johanna as DJ. The two of them together are quite… formidable.”

Katniss turned in her seat to grab her drink from the table so she could drink and watch this scene unfold in front of her. She would be lying if she said that it wasn’t just a teeny bit entertaining. Taking a sip from her mellowing beer, she almost choked when she saw who was joining the show. Blond ashen curls, broad shoulders, and a slight limp from a rugby injury that had never quite healed. It was Peeta. Her Peeta, consoling this shallow, pitiful, blonde bimbo.

She could feel Rue’s eyes on her, watching for a reaction. Katniss swallowed painfully, oblivious to the taste, eyes glued to what was happening in front of her very eyes. Maybe it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. There was no way, absolutely no fucking way, that the Peeta Mellark that she had known all throughout secondary school, was even remotely affiliated with such a cow. Deep down, Katniss knew that she was possibly being a little harsh, but jealousy, lots of it, was rearing its ugly green head, skewing her opinions.

“Yeah, and then there’s that,” Rue uttered, “reason number fuck knows what as to why I ‘strongly dislike’ Glimmer.”

Katniss breathed deeply, shoving down the irrational, possessive anger that was overcoming her. She cleared her throat, which had become exceptionally tight in the last two minutes, “Are they… an item?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Rue said, turning around to face the other way again, “as far as I know, they’re just fuck buddies. Who knows, though, maybe he does the wine and dining as well.”

Katniss, following suit, also turned around, sitting stoically, and taking slow sips from her sweating drink. “So he’s fucking her.”

Rue nodded, sighing a little as she did so, “I know it might not be my place to comment-”

“It probably isn’t then,” Katniss interrupted, wanting very much to go back to her hotel room now.

“But,” Rue continued, “you were really fucking dense to let that man walk away from you. I have no idea what happened between the two of you, but even I can appreciate that ass, and oh my god those shoulders,” she pretended to fan herself, before turning incredulous, “and he’s not even my type.”

Katniss snorted at this, turning around for a quick second, to survey the specimen that was now patting down an incensed Glimmer. She couldn’t deny that he still looked sexy as fuck. He definitely seemed to have fared this year a little better than her. Turning back around, she looked down at what she was wearing. A simple dress that she’d bought from a charity shop when she was sixteen, it was light blue and the material was soft and light, perfect for the humid weather that London summers were, but it did look as if it might be on its last legs. Her hair was loose for once, and hung in ebony waves down her back, but otherwise she hadn’t made much of an effort, as could be seen by her scruffy trainers and mismatched socks. She didn’t need to impress these people anyway.

“Yeah, stupid indeed,” Katniss muttered.

They sat there then, silence washing over them, until the unmistakable sound of a speaker system being plugged in echoed throughout the crowded room. Katniss looked up to see her friend climbing up onto the bar, a little wobbly on her feet, but her voice was commanding no less.

“Alrighty, I’ve been asked to do a little set tonight, but because I forgot to set up a good playlist that will please all of you old folk, I’ll be taking requests,” she made to get off the bar, but paused mid-step hollering across the room, “And if I think your song request is shit I won’t play it, feel free to take it personally.”

Katniss didn’t really care much for the offer to request music, she was just relieved to know that Johanna had, in fact, shown up. She had been wondering whether either of her ex-work-colleagues had actually bothered. Knowing that Johanna was here, though where she’d been all night was something Katniss would like to know, meant that Annie was probably here as well.

Rue, on the other hand, immediately got up. Kissing Katniss on the cheek, she proclaimed, “Oh, I have a song that Jo simply must play.”

She walked off into the crowd, but abruptly turned back, looking down at Katniss, who was still cocooned in the soft leather of the sofa, “Also, if you get any interesting job offers don’t be scared to recommend me,” with a wink, she waltzed off again.

Alone once again, and trying desperately to distract herself from the ‘pat down’ Peeta was assuredly still giving Glimmer, Katniss gulped down the rest of her pint, before standing to go get another.

Waiting at the bar for the barmaid to get to her drink, she tapped out a rhythm on the polished wood. Distracted, she almost didn’t notice the familiar opening chords to a song she hadn’t let herself listen to in a year.

Johanna’s voice sounded over the speaker system, “For all you lovesick idiots here tonight, Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey.”

Katniss’ breath stilled in her chest, this must have been some sick joke the universe was playing on her. Despite herself, Katniss searched the room for the familiar face that she had once danced to this with at prom. Scanning the crowd, her eyes finally landed on a seemingly just as stunned Peeta Mellark, his face so pale and pinched he looked like he was about to throw up. He, too, looked to be scanning the crowd. He couldn’t know that she was here, could he? She knew that she should probably shrink back into the shadows, or, better yet, vacate the premises and head back to her hotel room, to avoid any unnecessary drama that she most certainly did not need. Yet, against her better judgement, she stood her ground, not actively looking to be seen, but not hiding from sight either.

Her eyes stayed on him, noticing with a missed beat of her heart that Glimmer and Clove were both conspicuously absent. The song had already passed the first verse when Peeta’s eyes finally locked on hers. His eyes widened in surprise, but beneath it was still the same warmth and affection that had always been. Her sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know, those baby blues could still make her knees weak, could still make her feel like she was adrift and untethered in a desolate ocean, with him being the only tether to reality. Their gazes locked on one another as the second verse began;

A singer in a smoky room

The smell of wine and cheap perfume

Peeta’s eyes stared holes into her, and for a moment it was as if no time had passed, as if he was standing on the other side of the school’s assembly hall as an entire year group of nervous sweaty eighteen year olds danced the evening away to overplayed 80’s tracks. Katniss was even greeted with the familiar erratic beating of her heart, wishing and hoping that he’d just bottle up the nerve and ask her already!

That night, she had been the one to walk across the dance floor to ask him to dance, but tonight, it seemed it would be Peeta who would take the first tentative steps towards her.

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on, and on, and on

Drink forgotten, Katniss stepped away from the bar, walking towards the people already congregating to dance on a small open space on the floor. The first chorus sounded through the room;

Strangers, waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searchin’ in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

They met in the middle, and Katniss looked up at him through her lashes.

“For old times sake,” Peeta murmured down to her, offering his hand.

She tried not to let his remark sting, that their relationship is in fact in the past. That he had moved on from her, that she should too. But falling into his arms, head resting over his breast bone listening to his heart thumping away, letting him sway them to the music, felt so natural and familiar. The tears stung behind her eyes, and she bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing out loud. She didn’t want to be sad, to mar this song with her regrets, when it was accompanied by so many good and happy memories. Of the two of them messing around in his kitchen, or her bedroom.

So, she swallowed down her tears, and let herself fall back in time to when things were simpler. Letting the music and words wash over her, rejuvenating her weary soul.

Workin’ hard to get my fill

Everybody wants a thrill

Payin’ anything to roll the dice

Just one more time

Some will win

Some will lose

Some were born to sing the blues

Oh, the movie never ends

It goes on and on, and on, and on

She laughed when he spun her, then recaptured her in his arms. He swooped low, before lifting them back up and spinning them in slow circles.

Strangers waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searchin’ in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

She took the lead, moving them faster, along to the tune of the song. Pulling away from his embrace, but holding on to his hands, as she spun herself to lean her back against his chest with his arms crossed protectively over her.

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to that feelin’

Streetlight, people

Don’t stop, believin’

Hold on

Streetlights, people

As the song began to slow again, and Steve Perry ad-libbed his way through the end of the song, Peeta turned her again so that they were pressed chest to chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and their steps became so minuscule they could do it on a pie plate if they wished to do so. She stared up into his bottomless blue eyes, a genuine smile lighting up her face for the first time this evening.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked down, ashamed at how easily she had let herself fall back into his arms. The moment of magic had ended, and she was thrown back into the icy cold reality of her life. For christ’s sake they hadn’t spoken in a year, and now suddenly they were dancing and laughing on the dance floor!

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to that feelin’

Streetlight, people

He turned them one last time. He leant his cheek on the top of her head, sighing quietly as if knowing about the beratement Katniss was giving herself in her head. He swayed them as the song faded out. She pulled away, chancing a glance up at his face. The pain she had inflicted onto him shone through his eyes, and though it killed her to do it, she could only pull further out of his arms, backing away. He watched after her, arms limp at his sides, and she turned, pushing through the crowd.

“Oi, watch it!” Someone called after her as she shoved past people.

Finally, after stepping on numerous toes and elbowing a few people in the sides, she made it over to the makeshift DJ table. Johanna was leaning against it, chewing on a toothpick as she announced in a lazy drawl the next song. Behind her shoulder she could see Annie leaning heavily into some guy with bronzed curls and tanned skin, Katniss thought that she had seen him before in a couple of Annie’s instagram posts.

“Ahhh, Brainless,” Johanna called out when she spotted a breathless Katniss standing before the table, “here to make a song request? Maybe another one that you can dance to with lover boy.”

“What the fuck, Jo?” Katniss cried out, “Did you put that song on just to mess with my head? ‘Cause it sure as hell worked.” Katniss ran her shaking hands through her hair, not caring if she messed it up, or if it got tangled.

Johanna raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Wait, you don’t actually believe I put that song on, do you?”

“Well, who else, Johanna?!”

“I didn’t even know you were here up until five minutes ago, let alone him!” Johanna spat out, incredulity lacing her voice, “And besides, I’m only taking requests this evening. I did let everyone know,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes.

“Ok fine, if it wasn’t you, then who?” Katniss hissed, “Because I will start throwing arms if I have to, Jo.”

“Jeez, don’t get your knickers all in a twist, it was only a little dancey,” Johanna teased. Looking at Katniss’ bemused face, she relented, “If you promise to not beat the living lights out of her, I’ll tell.”

“‘Kay fine, I promise,” Katniss said, her anger subsiding a little. Whoever it was, it wasn’t their fault that she couldn’t just leave when she definitely should have, “Just tell me who.”

Johanna nodded her head in the direction of the bar, Katniss followed her gaze, eyes greeted with an apologetic looking Rue. Rue grimaced a little, apparently having watched Katniss’ outburst. At least she looked sorry, Katniss thought.

Her anger having dissipated, the feeling of regret and sadness settled cold and heavy in her stomach. She deflated against the table, feeling very tired all of a sudden, “I need a smoke,” she muttered, “Lighter,” she held out her hand.

Johanna grumbled under her breath, fishing through her pockets for a lighter. “Give it back after,” she warned, slapping it into Katniss’ outstretched palm.

Katniss weaved her way through the crowds once more, being a little more careful to not piss off so many people this time, until she got to the coat rack next to the door. The coat rack itself was leaning over under the weight of all the coats draped over the top of it. After some digging around, Katniss found her light jean jacket and pulled it out from underneath the mountain of others piled up on top of it. Pulling it on, she pushed open the door to the pub and stepped out into the night.

It looked like the sun had just gone down, streaks of orange fading into the sky as dusk settled over the stinking, sweltering city. It had cooled off quite a bit from earlier, and Katniss huddled herself further into her jacket, trying to leech off any residual warmth from it. She walked down the shallow stone steps, found herself a place to light her cigarette. Leaning against the cold brick wall behind her, not caring if she got her coat or dress dirty. She fished a loose cigarette out of her coat pocket, and lit the fag, taking a long drag from it, breathing it back out into the cooling air.

“Those things kill, you know,” A voice sounded from behind her. She scowled at how it made her heart leap hopefully in her chest.

“I know,” she almost growled, wanting him to fuck off back to Glimmer already. She couldn’t deal with having him thrust back into her life, pretending like nothing happened between them. Like she hadn’t irreparably fucked up their entire relationship, just because she felt ‘claustrophobic’.

“I thought you were quitting?” Peeta asked, walking to stand next to her and pulling out his own cigarette.

She passed him Johanna’s lighter, “You can’t talk,” she snorted as she watched him light his, “And anyway, I am. I just keep emergency ones in all of my coats, and in a few of my trousers.”

Peeta laughed at this, “Yeah, sure does sound like you’re quitting.”

“Hey,” she protested, “I never keep a lighter on me, that way I have to ask someone, and then they’re also accountable for my inevitable lung cancer.”

Peeta’s eyebrows rose at this, and he took a puff from his own cancer stick, “Oh yeah, and how long did it take you do that mental gymnastics.”

Katniss only rolled her eyes, and they both stood next to each other staring out at the street. They watched as a bus pulled up at the stop, and an old man stumbled out, hobbling into the Ladbrokes opposite. A siren blared somewhere in the distance. Two extremely drunk men sat on the steps a good ten metres away from them, but were loud enough for their slurred words to reach the two.

“Listen Katniss, about before,” Peeta started, breaking their comfortable silence, “I didn’t mean to make you feel crowded or guilty, or anything like that.” He looked to her, but she stared resolutely ahead, taking slow small puffs from her cigarette.

“It’s fine,” she finally said, “forget about it. I probably shouldn’t have even danced with you in the first place, what with you being with Glimmer and all.”

“Ah, shit,” Peeta breathed out, “I didn’t think you knew about that.”

“Yeah well, I do,” Katniss snapped.

Peeta looked as if he wanted to say something, but Katniss cut him off before he could, “I really don’t want to know.”

Peeta nodded his head. They were quiet for a moment.

“I mean, it’s not like you’re not allowed anyway,” Katniss said, scuffing the toe of her already scruffy trainer against the cracked pavement.

Peeta huffed out a bemused, short-lived laugh, “Care to explain that, whilst we’re out here talking civilly?”

“What?” Katniss asked, “Are you asking why I broke up with you?”

Peeta nodded his head once more.

Katniss sighed, “I feel like I’ve told myself and everyone around me the same explanation about a million times, but standing here it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Peeta whispered.

Katniss sighed, trying not to sound too exasperated. What’s it to him anyway, she thought. “Look Peeta, I told you before, and I’ll say it again. It wasn’t you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking myself if I did something,” Peeta said.

Katniss finally turned to look up at him, as he stared up at the darkening sky, searching it for the few visible stars, “We’re not even thirty yet, Peeta, I’m not ready to settle. I wasn’t last year, and I definitely am not this year. And I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you told me you weren’t ready yet either, and you’re allowed to be with whoever you want, even if it is someone as silly and shallow as Glimmer. I guess it’s better to get your mid-life crisis out the way now,” she said with a smirk, before sobering and adding quietly, “I’m not completely oblivious Peeta, it’s not like I don’t see her appeal.”

Peeta looked down at her, opening his mouth, she was sure, to deny that Glimmer’s big boobs were the reason. She held up her hand to stop him, “Who knows though, maybe someone’ll convince me to come to this thing again next year, and I’ll see you again. Hopefully with someone other than Glimmer. And just like this year, I’ll steal you for a dance, and then lure you outside for a smoke, and we’ll catch up,” she paused for dramatic affect, stealing herself for what she was going to say next, “After that, you’ll kiss me, right up against the cold brick wall,” she watched as Peeta’s eyes widened at her bold statement.

Maybe it was her pint of beer that had made her so free and uncaring with her sentiments. Though Katniss would never describe herself as a lightweight, she admitted to herself that it had been a good six weeks since she’d had a proper drink. On second thought, she remembered the last time she drank before tonight being a little over a week ago, and it had been a cider. She grimaced at the thought. Fuck, she mused, when did I become a lightweight? Peeta cleared his throat uncomfortably, prompting her to continue, but unsure of whether she was finished or not. Katniss mentally shook herself before finishing in a low, sultry voice, “Just like you’re going to do this year.”

“Fuck,” Peeta breathed out, and Katniss watched him visibly struggle to swallow. She tried, and failed, to suppress her smug little smirk, that she could still affect him like this. It eased the green beast within her, the one that had wanted to stamp her foot and cry out earlier when she had witnessed Peeta wiping down the front of Glimmer’s dress. She shook her head. She didn’t want to think of Glimmer, Peeta was out here with her now, that must count for something, right?

“Are you, umm - being serious?” Peeta stuttered, and despite herself Katniss grinned at how flustered he was getting, the pink staining his cheeks betraying how agitated he really was, “Or are you just pulling my leg?”

Katniss took a long drag from her fag, sucking on it until it was down to the stub, “Do I look like I’m joking, Mellark?”

She watched as his pupils dilated even more in the darkening night, until the blue of his irises were only thin rings around the black pits of his desire. She reveled in being able to do this to him still, after all this time. It comforted her, in a weird, possessive, unhealthy sort of way.

“No,” he whispered, voice hoarse and barely audible. He dropped his cigarette on the floor, not even bothering to stamp it out before stepping forwards. Large hands came to a rest on her waist, pushing her further back against the wall. She bit back a slight moan at the way he seemed to shelter her, the stark contrast of the cold wall behind her, nipping at the backs of her legs, and the heat that enmantend from his body and radiated onto her. She took a deep shuddering breath, pushing her chest upwards against his. Her hand shook slightly as she stubbed out the remnants of her cigarette against the wall next to her, before letting it fall to the ground as well.

Their faces were so close now, their mouths only a hair’s breadth apart, all it would take is for one of them to lean in, to close the tantalisingly small space between them. “Tell me you want me to,” Peeta uttered, breath fanning her face. She bit her lip, a sly grin gracing her features.

She leant up on her tiptoes, tracing a path to his ear lobe with her breath, “Peeta Mellark, I want you to kiss me up against this brick wall, until I’m breathless and my knees are weak.”

He groaned loudly, and she was about to tell him to be quiet when his lips descended greedily on hers. Knocking the breath right out of her, as he sucked and bit tenderly against first her top and then her bottom lip. She whimpered, admitting to herself that she had missed the way it felt to be kissed by someone who cared. Who didn’t just do it as a way to get into her underwear.

It was his turn to smile smugly, he pulled away from her, and she chased his lips with her own. Wanting them back, wanting him to plunge and plunder. She huffed out a frustrated growl when he moved even further away. She opened her eyes, taking in his face that grinned with feigned innocence down at her, “What’s the matter Everdeen?” He asked teasingly, “Knees not weak enough yet?”

She glared at him, he knew exactly what he was doing, and she wasn’t having any of it, not tonight. Lifting her hands to his hair, she played with the blond locks, smiling up at him demurely. She would tell him what she wanted step by step if necessary, but she didn’t think it would be. Cocking her head to the side, she mirrored his look of feigned innocence, before tangling her fingers into the shorter hairs at the back of his head, and pulling his lips back down to hers. He grunted against her, and she opened her mouth ever so slightly in invitation.

It took her all of two seconds to lose all inhibitions, Peeta’s hands moved up from their resting spot on her waist, one cradling the back of her neck and one stroking up and down her back in a motion that made Katniss giddy with desire. Their tongues met in a dance, reacquainting themselves. Peeta’s dove into her mouth, rediscovering everything he already knew about her.

Peeta placed his leg in between her own, which had opened a little of their own accord, bringing it upwards slightly, daring her to grind up against it. Stubborn as ever, though, Katniss refused to take the bait. Knowing him, he would probably tease her, pull away before she could really get going. But when he tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, she relented. She could feel her knees turning into jelly, forcing her to slump down onto his leg. She ground down on it experimentally, the rough material of his jeans rubbing up against her boy shorts. Katniss swore into his mouth, and did it again, letting the motion stimulate her throbbing center. She was almost glad that he couldn’t feel the intensity of the heat that seemed to be pouring from her core, but another part of her needed him to know that he could still do this to her. Could still drive her to do halfway insane things, like letting him ravage her up against a wall with all of her ex colleagues a mere few metres away. Pulling his head down further, she held him there, desperate to drink more of him in.

“Katniss,” he whispered against her mouth, before diving right back in.

It was her turn to grunt at the power in which he started almost devouring her mouth, she could only cling to the locks of hair wrapped around her fingers, in hopes that she wouldn’t just crumple to the floor. She was rocking against his leg in a steady rhythm, each stroke of his rough denim trousers against her center making her more frantic, desperate for more. Her nerve endings felt frayed, threatening to short circuit and send her spiralling through the abyss. Peeta continued to busy himself with her mouth, pulling away before delving back in, more thorough and rough each time, so that she could only whimper helplessly into his mouth.

It was when the hand that had been stroking leisurely circles into her spine crept towards her front before meandering downwards, that Katniss came somewhat to her senses. She stopped his hand with one of her own, before it could get to the hemline of the skirt to her dress. She pulled away from his lips that had been stroking soft sublime on hers, and looked at him. Eyes blown wide, lips swollen and red from kissing, blond hair tousled and mussed from all her incessant tugging. She was sure she was mirroring this disheveled appearance back at him. He lowered his leg from where it had stayed resting against her, but his hand stayed trapped between their two bodies. If it weren’t so painfully obvious how much they had missed each other, it would be comical how fast and hard they’d fallen back into heated touches and frantic kisses.

She took a deep breath, wondering if she should apologise, or at least explain, but her brain was still fogged with arousal, and she was finding it very hard to look him in the eye. Instead, she got back on to her tip toes and brought her arms up around his neck, pulling him close to her for a hug. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he slowly brought his arms around her waist, holding her to him as well.

“One day, Peeta,” she began, talking into his neck, “one day…”

“But not today,” he finished for her.

She nodded and squeezed him tighter, a hundred memories of them together flooding her mind, and for the second time this evening she had to fight back the urge to sob. She could only be relieved that he had understood, understood why she couldn’t let him do that, not now, and certainly not here.

He squeezed her back, and she swore she felt him inhaling her smell, at any other time this would have turned her on beyond reason, but now it only saddened her. How had she managed to fuck it up again? He pressed a quick kiss into the juncture of where her neck met her shoulder, before releasing her from his grasp.

She wobbled, still a little unsteady on her feet, but managed to start walking in the direction of her bus stop. As she walked past the two drunk men that were still sitting on the stone steps to the pub, she heard one of them call out to her.

“Is the show over, sweetheart?” he asked, sarcasm along with whatever he’d had to drink lacing his voice, “That’s a shame, me an’ Chaff here were really startin’ to ge’ into it.”

Katniss turned to look at the man who had said it, scathing reply waiting at the tip of her tongue, but before she could say anything, the other man, Chaff she assumed, slurred out;

“Won’t you give an ol’ man a kiss before you go?” The two men guffawed as he made kissy faces at her.

“Arseholes,” Katniss muttered under her breath.

The man with salt and pepper hair down to his shoulders called after her again, though all traces of amusement were gone from his voice. He sounded surprisingly sober when he told her, “I see the way you have him wrapped around your finger, sweetheart, you could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve what he gave you tonight,” he burped loudly and continued, “One day he’ll realise that, he’ll realise that he’s better than tha’, be’er than you.”

Katniss tried to ignore his words as she waited at the traffic light for the little green man to pop up so she could cross the road, but they still made her blood run cold, because maybe he was right. She turned her head to the side, waiting impatiently for the cars to come to a slow at the T-junction, when the old man, who had since left the betting shop, added his own snarky comment to the fray. If she had known how many people were watching them, she wouldn’t have let it get that far, or go on for so long.

“When do you think he’ll notice the exact degree of your indifference?” He asked in a voice that was weathered and old, but still demanded her attention. He had posed his comment as a question, but he said it as if he already knew the answer. She wasn’t indifferent, she thought, but doubt coursed through her. Hadn’t she just used him to prove a point? A stupid petty point, that she was better than Glimmer. She shook her head at the notion, it had just been a drunken mistake, nothing more.

She turned her head to face the decrepit old man, biting out a response, “Those are some awfully big words for a filthy old beggar, let’s hope you don’t choke on ‘em.”

The old man threw his head back and laughed, his cracked voice making it sound more like a cackle than anything. To her surprise the man actually did start choking, on his own blood. He bent forwards, crouching low as he spat blood to the floor.

“Gross,” Katniss muttered, before hurrying across the road. To hell with the traffic, she thought, she just needed to get the fuck out of here.

The shame and regret were already starting to curl themselves around her, and she felt almost sick with it. She was once again being reminded of how easily being around Peeta could fuck with her head, how it could make her do things that she otherwise wouldn’t do. That she’d sworn to herself wouldn’t happen again. Because, yes, her drink might have had something to do with it, but it was also him, he was intoxicating. The moment she had noticed he was in the room, she had wanted him, needed him. And it might be true that she could make him feel the same way, but people never seemed to see that he was just as good at it as she was. He was always the sweet golden boy, who had had the misfortune of falling in love with the likes of her.

She looked across the street when she arrived at the bus stop. The pub was pouring light from it’s windows and she heard the music playing. Peeta had already disappeared, and Katniss wondered how much he had heard. She hoped none of it. The old man was shuffling into the Tesco next door to the Ladbrokes, and the two men were still sat outside the pub, drinking from flasks. She looked up at the timetable that the bus stop provided, and cursed under her breath when she saw that her bus wouldn’t be arriving for another seven minutes.

She was about to start walking down the highstreet, so that she wouldn’t have to stand, waiting like a sitting duck, when her phone vibrated in her coat pocket with an incoming message.

Pulling it out of the pocket, she read what it said.

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:21pm]: Where are you? I’m hungry and bored, wanna get smth to eat?

Katniss considered ignoring the message, but her stomach rumbled in response to the thought of food.

Katniss Everdeen [Sent 10:22pm]: At the bus stop across the road. Don’t you have a set?

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:22pm]: Ofc you are. Yh I do, but any moron can do this. These song requests are driving me insane tho, so… food?

Katniss Everdeen [Sent 10:23pm]: Yh alright, what tho?

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:24pm]: I could really go for a kebab… and a smoke. We’re leaving now.

Katniss looked up from her phone. Shit. Johanna’s lighter. Peeta still had it. She watched as Johanna banged open the doors to the pub. Trailing after her was a wobbly Annie and the man from earlier. Katniss looked around her, hoping one of the many corner shops littering the street were still open, but they were all depressingly closed. Katniss glared at the closed signs on all the shop doors as if their existence offended her eyes, because in that moment, they really did.

She’d get that lighter back - she turned and saw the group crossing the road - though, maybe not today.

#emilia206 #alwayseverlark #prompt 4 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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